


A new era of Gotham

by Pixeltasumi



Series: A Stray In The Night [1]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Catlad, Anxiety, Kissing, M/M, PTSD, Romance, Stray AU, Tim Drake is Catlad, Tim Drake is Stray, a lot of flirting, slowbuild, violance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-25 20:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14386443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeltasumi/pseuds/Pixeltasumi
Summary: Gotham’s underground has a new chess piece and he’s ready to go down a path to fight the crime that no other has before. There’s only one person who could either tear down his empire or raise it up and beyond any expectation, and his name is Stray.OR"He closed the computer and got up, he couldn’t help but dwell in the thought of who thisStraywas, as he got ready to head out."





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I’m really happy to be writing this as I’ve been thinking about it for TOO LONG. I’ve been obsessed with the Stray AUs for a while now. I hope you enjoy this first chapter and let me know what you think and if you want more!^^

Ten fucking years. He could barely believe how long it had been. The city, still deprived of a functioning law system, crimes waiting to happen around every corner and yet, somehow, he felt oddly at home as he gazed out over the city. 

Jason was straddled over his harley, helmet resting in front of him as he let his eyes wander over the view that most would describe as a mix of wonder and disgust. The city was known for its infamous villains and those who made sure to put them behind bars. _Batman…_ No matter how much he wanted to ignore it, the ache still stung painfully in his chest as he thought of his old family. But that’s just what they were. His _old_ family. They were in the past and he was no longer a part of the past. 

Jason wasn’t Robin anymore. He’d been resigned that title the day a warehouse exploded with an injured young boy, still inside. Now, he was the Red Hood. A criminal in the eyes of society, an outlaw, gun nut. Of course, Gotham city didn’t know of this yet. But they were soon to find out, just how much havoc one ghost behind a red helmet could cause.

\----

_7 months later (thursday morning)_

“Kitten, you need to wake up.” A purring, familiar voice whispered whilst slowly stroking the side of the boy’s arm. 

“If I don’t remember wrong, this one has an exam in a few hours.” The gentle touch disappeared, much to the boy’s disliking. 

Tim groaned as he twisted around in the blanket. He was still laying on the same couch he’d crashed on top of the night before, just with the blanket as an added detail. Selina must have wrapped him in it once she found him. 

Last night had been long. It had started out with a simple art robbery at the request of Selina but then turned into a long and tiresome chase through the city. Batman had, for some reason, found an interest in him, more than usual at least. And instead of sending his demon spawn after him as usual, he’d shown up himself. Not that Tim couldn’t escape the big bad bat with ease, he’d done that many times. But last night, there had been a variable he had not accounted for. Batman had asked something of him, that Tim was in no way ever going to get into. 

“He’s a danger to us all.”

“Then why haven’t you tracked him down yet? Aren’t you the greatest detective in the world?” he’d purred, toying with the man as a means of distraction. But Batman wasn’t as easy to distract as that hormonal monster he called son. 

“You may be a thief Stray, but you know that he needs to be stopped, just as much as I do.” The sentence had caused a twitch at the edge of Stray’s smirk but he’d played it of as if it never happened, just as Selina had thought him. 

“Oh I don’t know, B” he teased the man, knowing very well that Stray had the power to reveal all their identities. 

“I think he seems to be just about what this city needs… Considering you and your little minions don’t have the balls to do what really needs to be done.” And with that he’d started running. If Bruce had taken offense, he hadn’t shown it, to no bigger surprise. But he had chased after him, more persistent than usual. The city was big and Stray knew every inch of it, but so did the Bat. He may originally have been a little rich boy but he had certainly taken his time to learn every creak as he grew up into the role of the Dark Knight, that’s what he though at least. Tim had just gotten enough of a head start to make it to one of Selina’s apartments later that night. He’d slipped through the window and collapsed on the floor, breathless and aching all over after having run around, up and down buildings, for what felt like hours. 

Luckily the bat hadn’t seen his lithe figure slip through the crack of the window and he’d gotten away. But it bothered him how much Bruce really wanted to capture this Hood figure. Stray knew he was a bit of an extreme character, but he wasn’t sure if it was for the worse or not. All he knew was that the Bat wanted him, and he was willing to chase around a cat through the city for an entire night just to get to him. 

He ruffled his own wild hair in an attempt to feel somewhat more awake and peered around the room. Selina was standing over at the kitchen making coffee. _God bless her._ Tim sat up, rubbing his eyes, then letting his arms fall down onto his lap. 

The Red Hood… He really didn’t know much of him. All he knew was that he had appeared a couple of months back, taking down the biggest and baddest of Gotham as if it was childsplay. Several gangs now answered to him, and still, there was no trace nor sign of where he was or who he was. The man was like a ghost. A ghost most people clearly feared from the way people talked of him, the whispers you heard on the streets, the news articles flashing on the front of every magazine or newspaper. Even Batman seemed almost… afraid? _Who was this man?_

“Is my little kitty cat in trouble with the big bad bat?” Selina sat down in the armchair next to the couch, elegantly crossing her bare legs after having placed one of the coffee cups on the table in front of them. 

Tim grabbed it and started drinking, immediately feeling better as the stream of caffeine entered his tired body. He leaned back on the couch and pulled his hair back with a deep sigh. 

“I don’t know yet, the Bat seems pretty on edge about this whole Red Hood ordeal.” 

The name even sparked a glimmer in _Selina’s_ warm emerald eyes. Her jet black curls were unkempt from having slept for more than just a few hours for once and the white t-shirt she had pulled over was covered in different forms of cat hair. Honestly, Tim didn’t even know how many cats the woman considered her own anymore. She never said she owned them, they owned her. But no matter the amount of cat hair or unkempt curls, she was still as beautiful as ever. 

“What do _you_ think about him?” She asked, curious to see how the boy himself felt about the newest addition to Gotham’s criminal underground. Selina was good, she never revealed her true feeling to anyone. But Tim had learnt to read her, as the woman was basically the closest thing to what he’d call a mother. 

His own mother had passed at his own young age of nine and his father took his own life by drinking and other substances, not long after. 

He could see the worry in her eyes, no matter how much she tried to conceal it. Tim knew that she trusted him and knew he could take care of himself so he wasn't too bothered by it. Selina wasn’t - thank god - anything like Bruce with his kids. She might not show much of her own trail of thought, but she wasn’t emotionally crippled and she was definitely determined to show her trust in him.

“He seems… different.” Tim chose his words carefully. He hated making any statement at all without solid facts to back him up, but he had been thinking about it. 

“Dangerous, of course. But there’s something about him. I don’t know what it is… yet.” He was determined to figure out though. If he hadn’t been before, than the debacle with the bat last night had certainly peaked his interest, if not kicked it to a whole other level. 

_What was it with The Red Hood that seemed rock the whole city, even Batman?_

Selina gave him a smirk as she got up from her seat and ruffled his hair, just after it had finally found a nice resting place. “Don’t let curiosity kill the cat, Tim.” She moved graciously away from the living room area, toward the kitchen.

“I won’t.” He reassured and finished the beverage, trying to fix his hair again, feeling less like a zombie as he stood up. His Stray suit laid on the floor from last night and he stepped over it as he walked over to a drawer where he usually kept some civilian clothes around. 

“Did you study for your exam today?” Selina asked, dropping of her mug at the sink and getting out food for the several cats who were now walking in through different windows. _Breakfast time for everyone I guess._

“You know, I might as well teach classes at that college right? I can hack into every computer system in the world, I think I can manage this test.” he said and raised his eyebrows in a cocky manner as he slipped into a pair of black skinny jeans, with rips in them. 

“Perhaps, but appearance is everything Tim, and you know that.” Selina said as she disappeared into her bedroom. 

Appearance was everything, and he _did_ know that. Stray was a famous thief, the one you went to for information or a job that had to be done in the shadows. At the right price of course.

But Timothy Drake, he was a top of his class collage student and a nerd. In no way would that scranny kid ever manage to break into the Met and steal million dollars worth of paintings without even being caught. The only reason people knew that it had been Stray was because of the fact that he’d left a note with a paw print on it. _Hey, might as well take credit when performing a master heist._

“I won’t ditch, I promise.” he chuckled as he pulled a white t-shirt over his head with a small line of text one it, _if you can read this, you’re too close._ He had to swing by his own apartment, not far away from this one, and pick up his things. His whole life was on his computer and that was also his way of getting any information regarding what was going on in town. 

“I’ll see you later Selina! Love you!” He called out through the apartment as he exited and ran down the many flights of stairs. With a backpack strapped over his shoulders, where inside it, the Stray suit rested. 

\---

“I want a name by tomorrow.” He hung up the phone and threw it across the small slightly torn down apartment in frustration. Getting a new one wouldn’t be a hassle, money wasn’t a problem for the reigning crime lord of Gotham. In just seven months he’d managed to do what Batman still hadn’t accomplished. There was a pride in that thought, hell it was a turn on really. 

But something had made its way into his perfect plan, or more precisely, _someone._ People called him Stray, a man who seemed to have the power to track down anyone, which wasn’t boding well for Jason. He’d made sure to drop hints of who he really was around Nightwing and Batman, just to screw with them. He wanted Bruce to know that it was him, his failure, who had come back from the grave and done the job he never had the guts to do. But it had to take some time and he couldn’t be caught, not yet. So when he learnt that B had contacted this _Stray _, he wasn’t too pleased. If this unknown player - of what was all really one big game - was as good as people made him out to be, then he was trouble.__

__He’d sent out his men to find him, or a name, or really anything. Surprisingly, no one had known of his real name or how to get to him. Apparently he found you. And Jason didn’t have time for that. Admittedly, he was impressed by how he’d managed to stay out of the spotlight for so long, according to stories he seemed to have surfaced some time after Jason’s disappearance and that meant he'd been in the game for some time now. And not even Batman knew who he was._ _

_Master detective my ass._ He fell down onto the couch with a thud and let his feet rest up on the coffee table in front of him. The place looked like shit but Jason didn’t mind, he’d been staying at way worse places throughout his life. And he did own some nicer apartments, he just had to keep moving around. He was wealthy now, it kind of came with the job. But he knew the risk that came with buying pricey estates. It was one sure ticket to getting discovered and that’s just how he’d taken down the entire infrastructure that was Gotham’s underground when he’d arrived. 

__Showing off your money, bathing in it. It was the biggest mistake you could possibly make if you cared about your head. There were a few rules you had to follow, but besides that, taking Gotham was a piece of cake._ _

Don’t show you face, _not to anyone_. And that included anything that could become a signature or distinguish you. Like your voice, handwriting, the way you moved or laughed. That’s why Jason kept his helmet on at all times, even during meetings. The several layers of the ventilation filters made sure to distort his voice just enough beyond recognition to the untrained ear. _And believe me, there were a lot of those._

__You had to keep up a public face, you can’t just exist as your alias. This had been the most taxing rule, the one that exhausted Jason the most. Because Jason was still young. He was 23 and that meant that most around his age, didn’t have a proper job or spent time reading, drinking tea. No, he had to live the life of a college student._ _

__To the public he was Peter Jonson, a college student who had been living overseas with his parents for three years, to now return home alone for the college experience._ _

__This all meant that he had to keep up the act of a college kid during the day and then a Gotham crime lord by night. He couldn’t believe how much work was dropped onto college kids, onto him. He was even late for a meeting with the Penguin once because, guess what? He had homework. It was ridiculous. It made being a crime lord seem easy. Not that Jason wasn’t smart, he’d always been smart. But it was exhausting._ _

_Bing._

__The sound of an email came through his computer that was placed open on the table, next to his feet. He reached forward and opened the message._ _

_-As we attempted to find Stray we got slightly closer, but he sent us a virus and all our servers are down for at least twelve hours._

_“Shit.”_ Jason let the world slip past his lips without even acknowledging it. _This kid is good._

Which wasn’t good for The Hood. He closed the computer and got up, he couldn’t help but dwell in the thought of who this _Stray_ was, as he got ready to head out. He had an exam in a few hours. 

__\---_ _

__Tim sat sipping a caramel macchiato at the Starbucks near one of his apartments, spiked with three shots of espresso, as he hit enter with a smirk, sending the virus to those who were trying to intrude on his privacy. Not that they were even close of getting any form of information, but he liked to remind those who tried that he saw everything and _nothing_ could slip passt him. _ _

__He had retrieved his computer, among other things, from his apartment and then headed out to take some time for himself at the coffee shop before the exam. With the trip back to his apartment he'd put on some fake piercings, including a lip, some ear piercings, and an eyebrow. He was also wearing a red beanie now, a black oversized long sleeve and the same ripped jeans as he’d found at Selina’s apartment._ _

__You see, Tim wasn’t just one person. It switched depending on his company. In case he was hanging around the less fancy and more torn down parts of town - like the one Selina’s apartment had been in and the one he was at now - then he’d add some extra volume to his hair, piercings and dress in a way that one might describe as grunge meets emo/punk. And his name was no longer Tim, it was James._ _

__Tim was the upper class boy who went to college and spent his time mostly to himself with books and computers surrounding him, day and night. He wore his hair back in a small bun, although only the top part of his hair would be able to be tied back. He also wore a lot of nerdy t-shirts, and he was not nearly as stylish och outgoing as James._ _

__James you’d see walking down the street, not caring if he bumped into people because he was too busy with his music that was just loud enough to leak out of the headphones. He’d also be seen with a camera at times, taking pictures of people or his surrounding. Tim wasn’t much for being outside at all. He’d spend his time at the library, barely interacting with anyone. No one was interested in a social hermit, a rich kid who saw himself above others or too good to spend time with anyone. But James, he knew everyone._ _

__It was perfect. No one was interested in the real identity of Stray because he was boring. Too good for others. Tim Drake was a nobody in the eyes of society, except a kid with high expectations. But when Tim wanted to actually have a life, friends or do things. Then James was the perfect cover. James was everything the real Tim would’ve been. He was a caffeine addict who loved to take pictures and could talk to anyone, even though he was selective in his choice of company. These two people were like night and day._ _

__“Hey James!” A blonde girl called out as she walked over towards him with a broad smile. Every time she did that, Tim couldn’t help but smile back, her smile really was contagious but there was also something else, entertaining his mind._ _

__“Hey Stephanie.” He smiled and let the girl take a seat across from him. He made a few taps on his computer and the coding that had once been there was now gone, replaced with a youtube video that seemed paused midway._ _

__“What’s up?” He leaned back against the wall behind him and sipped his coffee._ _

__“Oh I’m just grabbing a drink on my way to work.” She said with a gesture towards the register as she had just placed an order and was waiting for them to call out her name._ _

__“Don’t you work at at cafe?” Tim asked confused and lifted an eyebrow, as he sat down the cup of coffee. _Or more like caffeine bomb really_. _ _

__“Well, yeah. But they just serve black coffee with sugar or milk. I need my daily dose of diabetes.” She giggled slightly. She was cute, Tim had to admit. In another life he could have definitely seen them together. But not in this one. Steph missed one important factor, something between her legs. Once the girl had realized that, she had almost seemed even more invested his hers and _Jame’s_ friendship. Something about being tired of all the straight guys constantly hitting on her. _ _

__At first Tim had tried avoiding the girl, he even stopped coming to starbucks for a while. After all, Stephanie Brown was Batgirl. And Batgirl _hated_ Stray. Stray never really had anything against the girl but she had definitely made it very clear that he was a lying thief, not worthy of any sympathy. It was out of character for the mostly loving girl but once he found out that Cluemaster was her father, he understood it. Stray seemed to hit a sore spot every time he left a clue of his involvement of a robbery or heist of some kind. He mostly did it so no one else could take the blame, but the girl had taken it personal. Probably thinking it was a mockery aimed towards her. So he played along, letting Batgirl hate Stray and letting Stephanie love James. _ _

__Besides, it was kind of nice having someone to talk about normal things with._ _

“Julia Roberts!” a worker called out with a small sigh as she placed the cup of ‘to go’ coffee on the counter for _Julia Roberts_ to pick up. 

__“Still sticking with the celebrity theme?” Tim chuckled as Stephanie got up._ _

__“Yup, yesterday I was Leonardo DiCaprio.” She winked and went over to grab her beverage._ _

__“I hate to leave you here but I have to get to work now.” She said upon her return._ _

“Oh, don’t worry. I got class in…” He looked down at his watch. “Twenty minutes, _shit._ ” He chugged the rest of the coffee and threw his computer into his shoulder bag. Steph just laughed as he ran past her, out of the shop. 

__“I’ll see you later!” He called out and the girl waved back in response as she headed down the street, towards the opposite direction of Tim._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a lot of fun to write, hope you guys like it and want more!^^


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went on a writing frenzy and got the second chapter down in just a couple of hours haha  
> This won’t be the regular uploading schedule so don’t hold it against me when I’m slow!  
> But yes here is the second chapter! Will they meet???

_(thursday)_

“Jesus christ, the things they put kids through these days.” Jason growled under his breath as he exited the exam hall. 

His entire body felt like it was carrying an addition of twenty pounds and all he wanted was to fall asleep at the nearest horizontal surface, but he had work to get to and boring exams to forget about. He didn’t understand how some of these kids pulled through it all with such ease.

One kid in front of him had even been sitting doing _nothing_ for most of the time, he'd had started writing when there were _twenty_ minutes left. In the back of his head, Jason kind of wished he’d fail. He never saw that kid leave even though he looked for the jet black hair whilst making his own departure, but the boy had been nowhere to be seen. Not much of a surprise really, as the kid had looked about as generic as an IKEA furniture. 

Some girls passed by him in the corridor and giggled, whispering something as they hurried their steps. Jason ignored them and redirected his attention towards where he was going instead. Since his whole encoded private network was down because of a god damn _cat_ he had to get some research done by himself, the old fashioned way. He entered the campus library that coincidentally coexisted with the city hall archives - some weird and dumb budget cut’s outcome - and walked up to the closest librarian. He tapped her on the shoulder in an attempt to not startle her. 

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you kept any records of old news papers, I’m working on a history project and I’d love to see some of the original printing.” He smiled in the friendliest way he knew possible.

“Oh sure dear.” The lady placed the book she'd been holding back on the shelf before completely turning to face Jason.

“Any specific year you’re looking for?” She asked and gestured for him to follow her to the back's storage room. It was pretty big considering the small piece of the library it occupied, but there were boxes _everywhere._ Stacked upon and against each other.

“Well, just a couple of years back. Nine years should do it.” He said, letting his eyes travel the room as the lady guided him further in, trying to read all the labels on the different boxes. A silence fell for some time, as the woman started reading through the different descriptions of the cardboard boxes. _Doesn’t seem like the most effective way to store historical events and artifacts but whatever._ Jason almost cringed as he saw the way some of the boxes were becoming too heavy, creating dents in the neighbouring ones 

“Oh, here.” The librarian broke the silence and started tugging on one of the boxes at the bottom of a huge pile. Jason noticed her actions just in time to catch the boxes on top so they wouldn’t come crashing down on either of them. The woman didn’t seemed to have noticed anything at all however, she just carried the small box over to a working table whilst Jason was left to try and maneuver the ridiculously heavy boxes back in line with the others. Once he did, he let out a small breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and moved over to the lady. 

“Here are all our saved articles from nine to five years ago. It’s not much but in this city it’s a miracle the building is still standing.” She cackled and started moving towards the door. 

“You just put it back when you’re done sweety.” And she was gone. 

Jason wasted no time and opened up the box. He pour out the different pieces of articles and pictures on to the table and separate them to try and get a better view of it all. 

_”Is Robin dead?”_

_”New Robin hits the streets”_

_”What happened to the old Robin?”_

Jason’s posture stiffened at the sight of it all. He wasn’t looking for _this_ , he’d been looking for Stray. A familiar rage started growing in his chest and he was just about to walk out when something caught his attention. 

It was a picture of him, much younger and as Robin. The photo wouldn’t have caused much of a reaction other than rage if it hadn’t been for the fact that in this picture he’d been posing. The photo hadn’t belonged to the papers or some old photogrpher. This was personal. He grabbed it, carefully between his fingers and lifted it to reveal a small text under it. A credit to the photographer.

Jason felt like something got stuck in his throat as he read it. Not a day had passed during the past ten years where Jason hadn’t tried to forget that name. A name that _still_ haunts him. 

He dropped the photo abruptly and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Letting the photo slowly fall to the floor.

_Photography: Timothy Drake_

\---

“It went okay I guess.” Tim said mindlessly to one of his - not really friends, more like acquaintance - from his class. He was pretty sure that his name was Brad, and that the only reason he was hanging around Tim was because it was exam season and Brad liked to sit next to Tim and copy what he wrote sometimes. 

“What are you talking about? You didn’t even start writing till the end of the exam.” Brad sounded almost upset, as if his results would be implicated by that. _Your own fault for cheating idiot._

“Yeah I dozed off.” Tim said scrolling through the different news channels he had hooked up on his phone. Usually he’d never be so obvious about it and instead check it when he'd be in private but he was pretty sure that Brad had a total of two brains cells and wouldn’t even be able to put two and two together math wise, so he wasn’t stressing it. 

In reality, Tim had been trying to solve the mystery that was the Red Hood during most of the time. He had martial art skills that were rare. Ra’s al Ghul rare. But why would Ra’s send someone to Gotham and still lay low. Enough time had passed already for him to have been able to strike. So far all the Red Hood had done was actually pretty good things. Sure the killing wasn’t very bat-codex-like, but Tim never cared about that. He could never get himself to kill someone on his own but he saw the necessity of it in some cases…

_Like the Joker…_

The nutty clown was locked up in Arkham and it drove the cat insane. He’d considered breaking in and killing him so many times he couldn’t even count it. He deserved it. After what he'd done. 

“I got to go.” Tim took a sharp right turn and headed down the stairs, leaving a confused Brad behind. 

He left campus feeling nauseous, just like he always did, once those thoughts entered his mind. _Fuck the Joker. Fuck Batman. Fuck this fucking city._

Tim turned corner after corner, slowly changing into his other self. Adding the black oversized shirt, piercings and beanie - that he had all been removed before entering campus grounds or the blocks surrounding it it earlier that day. He turned into someone else walking past the strangers of Gotham and by the time he’d reached his own apartment, no one would’ve been able to tell that it was the same boy who had taken that exam earlier, across the city. 

He entered the apartment and fell down on the couch feeling exhausted, as usual, before he continued on by pulling his computer out of the shoulder bag he’d let fall onto the ground. His computer was like a block of cement, so he wasn’t really careful with it. He even used it to knock a guy unconscious once. Still worked till this day. 

He started up all the programs he’d closed down earlier when Steph had interrupted him, using a few shortcuts on the keyboard. No other attempt of intrusion had been made, not very surprising as he’d most likely busted their systems for a good ten hours at least, depending on their cumputer skills. 

The thought struck him that maybe it had been the Hood who’d tried to hack through his system. What if it actually was him? Had he heard that Batman wanted him to find him? And if so, how far would the man go to stop him? The thought’s started spinning around his head and just added on to the pile of reason that Tim weren’t a fan of the bat. 

He had been once… But that all went away the day he'd realized Batman was just a big hypocrite. Lying to himself and those around him. He wasn’t keeping the city safe. How could he, when he couldn’t even protect his own son? The thought of his him sent ghostly shivers through his entire body and his hands stopped moving over the keyboard. It wasn’t a voluntary reflex. Just something his mind had inhabited whenever _he_ intruded his thoughts. 

Jason Todd… The one person that had actually mattered to the young Tim Drake all those years back. But he’d lost him. First he’d lost his mother, then his father and then Jason. Tim had felt cursed. Blamed himself for years and years. Still did sometimes. But now that blame was aimed towards someone else. And that someone wasn’t even touchable thanks to Bruce Wayne. _Father of the year, right?_

He closed his fists, taking a deep breath before he started typing again. Shaking his head as if it’d kick the thoughts out of it. He tried focusing at the task at hand. After all, maybe the Hood would one day kill the Joker. And Tim would gladly be there to hand him a muffin basket, if he did. 

\---

_Rain._

Heavy rain was shooting down on the city but that never stopped Stray. He had work to do, and water wasn’t going to stop him. Besides, the rain also helped to clear his mind. All afternoon he’d been through hell and back in his mind, trying to figure out where or who the Red Hood was. Nothing had really come out of it other than Tim realizing he had to get some fresh air and was late for the job. 

Apparently the Red Hood wasn’t much of a social media kind of guy. The only thing that came up during his search was information regarding recent works of his, or older information, dating back to the days where there was no Joker, just a man coerced into doing and becoming something morbid. Maybe the Hood idolized him, or mocked him. There waas not telling what was what, so in the end Tim had given up, momentarily of course.

His suit as Stray was repellent to the water and his goggles would protect his eyes from the stinging drops as he ran over the buildings of Gotham. 

“What was the point of this again?” he asked with an exhaustion coating his words, dangling his legs from his position in the tree. He was currently in the garden of Gotham’s Botanical Institute. 

“Well Ivy said she wanted the root of a weird flower. It’s apparently pretty rare but supposed to help her with her cold.” The high pitched female voice reached him from below, where Harley was sitting with a pair of ridiculous binoculars, trying to scan the area for any security guards. Neither of them really felt like having a whole police squad called on them, especially Stray who had realized he had to keep a low profile until he’d figure out the Red Hood, and if he was after him. 

“Do you know what it looks like?” Stray asked casually as he jumped down soundlessly, to crouch next to Harley. 

Somehow he’d started hanging around the infamous female crime duo a couple of years back and ever since then they had sort of.. helped each other with different things. Such as flu medicine for Ivy. At first, being around Harley had been tough. She was afterall related to the Joker. But if Stray had learnt anything from his time around them, it was that Harley just might hate the clown more than Stray did. Ivy had somehow helped the woman out of her Stockholm syndrome-like thought pattern, made her realize how much she was actually worth. To carry her head high and proud. Knowing how far Harley had come in that struggle, Stray would happily call her a friend any day. 

“I memorized the picture that Ivy showed me.” The woman lowered the binoculars and turned around to face the cat. 

“It’s a yellow flower and the root of it is thin, but sturdy. If you break it apart, it supposed to have a lilac color.” She finished the description, taking one last glance over the area before standing up. 

“And you knocked out all the alarms?” She asked Stray with a quirked eyebrow. 

“They’ve been out for the last ten minutes.” He replied and joined her as they both made their way to the giant greenhouse. The rain hid them well enough so that they could pretty much just march in though the front gates, but they didn’t want to risk it. 

One of the rooftop's windows were open for a natural rainfall to easily make its way inside and water the bigger plants and trees in the center of the hall, which also made for a great entrance for a cat. The slippery glass walls were no trouble for the experienced burglar, who with ease, made his way up and lowered himself down with the help of a rope that Harley was holding onto from her position outside on the ground.

Once inside, he moved over to one of the side gates, opening up for the blonde woman to slip inside. _This place was basically made to be broken into._ Stray thought to himself as they both split up in silence to try and find the flower. 

The dark was no stranger to the cat but he did hear Harley occasionally bump into a rake or shovel, madly apologizing as if it had been a person. And this was one of the most wanted criminals of Gotham city. The thought forced a smile on Tim and he felt relieved and better for it. 

“Hey kitty, I think I’ve found it!” Harley called out in a wheezing voice as if it’d make her less audible. 

Tim made his way over to the woman and crouched down next to her, following her eyes to what was in front of them. He removed his goggles for a better close up view. A yellow flower, much similar to a tiger lily. Harley carefully tugged at it, making it lose its grip of the earth surrounding it. Tim pinched one of the roots and broke it apart to reveal a lilac color coating the inside. 

“This was it, right?” He showed the other the inside and looked up in wait for an answer. 

“I think so.” Harley grabbed the broken piece and licked it to the other’s surprise. 

“Oh my god Harley! What if it’s dangerous! You might get poisoned if it’s not prepared correctly!” He slapped the flower out of the woman's hand and moved in closer, trying to see her facial expression. Her whole face was twisted into a look of disgust. 

“Yup that’s the one.” She pulled out her tongue in disgust and opened her eyes that had been closed.

“And don’t worry sugar, it’s not dangerous. Just really, _really,_ bitter.” She wiped her tongue with the back of her hand, looking like a child that had tried to eat sand. 

“It’s not even medicine, it’s actually just a normal flower.” She said casually and looked up to meet the other’s shocked expression. 

“Wha- Well what the hell are we doing here then Harls?” He asked frustrated that he’d been tricked into spending time doing this instead of something productive, _like looking for the Hood._

“We’re worried about you Stray...” She said sighed and grabbed on to Tim’s arm, preventing him from leaving. 

“Worried?” His expression went back to the same confused look as before. _What the hell was she going on about?_

Harley sighed again and rolled her eyes. “Selina told us about the ugly Bat’s plan on catching the Hood. She told us he was looking for you.” 

It suddenly clicked that this had all been set up by Selina, as a way to divert him or make sure he was in good company. He hadn’t realized just how worried she’d been. And when Selina acted like this, then you should to be worried. He ran his hand through his damp hair and looked up at Harley with a smirk.

“Worried? About me? You know I can take care of myself Harley.” He said in a light, playful tone. A signature purr that most would relate to Stray. The girl wasn’t having it though.

“Oh cut it out Tim.” She punched his arm, without much force. But the mere use of his real name served as a punch. She never used his real name, unless things were bad. 

“We all know you have to be an idiot to not take this seriously. And you’re no idiot.” The smirk was gone and replaced with a sigh as Tim looked away from the blonde in front of him. 

“I know…” He muttered and let his eyes travel over the fields of flowers and plants surrounding them 

“Ivy and I wanted to ask if you wanted to stay with us for a while? Just till things calm down.” She said in a more loving voice, one very rarely used by Harley. She was of course a loving person, Tim couldn’t even count the numerous times she’d held him down in a _hug lock,_ as she called it. But she was always very energetic. And now she was using a calm, collected voice. It made him wonder if that’s what her voice had been like before the Joker had gotten his hands on her. 

“We could paint your nails just like we did when you were younger.” She wiggled her eyebrows and smiled fondly. _What did I ever do to deserve these people in my life?_ Tim asked himself and started laughing. He truly did love them. 

He grabbed a hold of the woman and pulled her in for a warm embrace. She seemed almost shocked at first but quickly returned it by wrapping her surprisingly strong arms around him as well. After having sat there, holding each other for what felt like too short of a time, he pulled back slightly with an equally warm and genuine smile as hers. 

“Thank you Harley... But I’m okay. Besides, I’ve got classes and things to take care of here. Also, I think my local coffee shop will go out of business if I leave.” He chuckled with a slight smile. Harley met his smile with a slightly sad, yet not surprised expression. 

“We figured as much.” She said with a light shrugg. 

“But I will come over some day and I expect nothing but the finest manicure and pedicure in town.” He nudged the woman with a playful smile and her face lit up once again into her normal expression.

“Come on, we should get out of here.” He stood up and offered a hand to his friend. 

“Oh, one second.” She said with a hand gesture before starting to dig up more flowers. 

“I thought you said those weren’t medicine?” He asked as Harley got up with at least ten flowers in her hands. Roots, still attached and dripping dirt and water as they walked. 

“Yeah but Ivy makes a mean jam out of them once they’ve dried up.” She giggled.

Tim broke into laughter, something he rarely experienced as Stray, but since it was just the two of them there he let it out and continued leading the way, feeling way better when he left than when he had arrived.

 _Who ever the Hood is, he better be careful._ Tim had some powerful women on his side, and he knew they’d tear down the whole city before letting anyone hurt him. Just as he would for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they did not end up meeting this chapter  
> BUT  
> I love the idea of Harley, Ivy and Selina all looking out for Tim so this was adorable to write.  
> I promise there will be interaction between them in the next one!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are so nice, I just want to take a moment and thank everyone who commented on the last two chapters and left kudos! You guys are amazing, and this chapter is 100% dedicated to all of you!
> 
> Also! They are finally meeting! Are ya ready for it? ;)

_(Saturday, a week later)_

_You’d think the leading man of power in Gotham - at least crime wise - wouldn’t have to do this kind of shit himself._ Jason walked around his crappy apartment gathering different parts of his gear, slowly adding pieces to his body. The men he’d assigned to retrieve information regarding Stray, by attempting to crack the man’s security system had failed, bad. So Jason had sent out goons each night since the virus was received in hopes of finding the damn cat in the flesh and bringing him in. But they had failed as well. Leaving Jason to try and fix this mess himself. Well technically there was no mess, _yet._ But that fact could change in a heartbeat, and the Red Hood wasn’t one to sit around, rolling his thumbs, waiting for his own demise. No. _If the cat wants to play games, then so have it._

He couldn’t really blame the stranger though, considering the fact that most people stayed away from the Red Hood’s business. And if the rumors were true; that Batman had asked the skilled hacker to track him down, then Stray must assume the the Red Hood wants him dead. However, that wasn’t the case. Jason didn’t exist online unless someone tried to crack his private servers. And if the cat had agreed to help Batman, then he would’ve already tried to break through. But he hadn’t, which meant he was smart. Smart enough to _not_ trust Batman and to stay out of the Hood’s path. 

The fact that Stray seemed to not oppose to Jason’s work, opened up for several opportunities that Jason was keen on taking. The rumors regarding Stray had told Jason that he was a master thief and hacker, identity still unknown, someone even the Bats couldn’t figure out - or catch. And throughout his career he had done plenty of impressive work. Robbing the Met had certainly made Jason laugh when he’d read of the note left behind. The cat also seemed to take down crooks, corrupted men. But never killed or hurt innocents or civilians. One rumor had even told Jason he’d stopped a massive arrangement for child trafficking a few years back. 

_This Stray, might just be what I need._

Word had hit the streets that Scarecrow was resurfacing after his breakout from Arkham five months ago, and he was bringing his A game this time. Jason didn’t hold any personal vendetta towards the lunatic but the last thing this city needed was some kind of new fear toxin or drug hitting the streets. Jason knew very well the repercussions that would follow it, as his childhood, before Bruce, was painted in it. 

His father had been a drunk who’d done just about anything to get his hands on whatever that’d take the edge of. And his mother had died in childbirt, which that had apparently been Jason’s fault. The boy had spent his first eight years of his life running errands for his father, and he wasn’t talking grocery shopping. _If only._

Once it had become clear that Scarecrow was actually planning something, the Red Hood had made an attempt of contacting him, but the man had not accepted any of his meetings or responded to any messages. Leaving a clear message by itself that he had no intentions of operating under the Hoods orders. Which meant, he had to go. 

Nevertheless, the fact still remained that Scarecrow was unpredictable. Jason didn’t know where or how he was going to strike. There’d been speculations that the dealers would start out around Gotham harbour but no actual proof had been found, backing up the rumors. And none of Jason’s men had found, our seen anything searching the area. 

He pulled on his heavy army boots and strapped on his gun holsters. His armor of choice was as far away from his old Robin suit as it came. But he still carried a bat symbol across his chest. He’d talked himself into thinking it was a way of enraging and pissing off the Bats of the city. But somewhere deep down, he knew it held a sentimental value. With everything that had changed. He himself. His entire world. Gotham. Claiming a bat symbol of his own had only felt right. 

_Buzzing_

Jason grabbed his new phone from the kitchen counter and leaned against it as he answered. He only used this phone for business purposes so there was already a voice distortion mechanism programmed into it. 

“What?” Jason spoke into the mic, never wasting time with smalltalk or formalities. If someone wanted something, then getting to the point was all that mattered. 

But no one said anything. There was just a low breathing at the other end of the line, sounding almost raspy. It was barely audible but it was there. 

“Who is this?” Jason demanded and straightened up, feeling agitated. He didn’t appreciate games, unless he was leading in them.

 _Still silence._ The breathing had disappeared but the line was still open. _Was it Stray? No he wouldn’t pull something like this. And he couldn’t possibly have this number._

“Who ever this is, if you don’t come forward with you name in-” The line was cut off and a beeping was left to fill the silence. Jason looked down at the phone. Nothing unusual showed on it, not even a caller ID. The phone hadn’t even registered the call. Jason placed the device back on the counter and stepped away from it. Whoever they where, they wouldn’t be able to track him, that was impossible. He'd had made sure of that a long time ago. And whoever it was, they were obviously toying with him. _Was it Scarecrow?_

“Gonna have to change my fucking number, again.” He muttered and walked back into the living room area. If Scarecrow thought he could mess with him, then he was wrong. 

With still some time to spare, he fell down onto the couch to to check the recent news and police radio of Gotham city, hoping there’d be some kind of distraction to keep eyes and ears off of him. To Jason’s pleasant surprise, the voice of a hysteric policeman boomed through his computer, telling him just the right thing. He checked his clock and smirked, getting back up to grab his helmet.

A very wealthy and corrupt family had just alerted the police of a robbery and that their entire home had been turned upside down. Only to leave a single note left behind, with a paw print on it.

_Gotcha_

Tracking down the cat hadn’t been easy. But there Jason was, a couple of buildings away, following a shadow that he could only assume was the burglar. The figure was carrying a pipe of some sort, strapped over his shoulder, most likely to transport paintings or documents. From what Jason had understood, the man seemed to have a taste for the arts. Whether he liked to keep the pieces to himself or just found it a simple way to make fast cash was still unknown. But he certainly was intriguing. 

Even though the Red Hood might come of as quite heavy and most might assume him to walk in like a bulldozer, his former days as Boy Wonder had taught him how to stay silent as the wind. However, if it was a windstill night or a fucking hurricane coming through seemed to differ depending on the man’s mood, but he was definitely not taking any risk now once he’d actually spotted the man he’d been after for over a week. 

As he moved over the rooftops he made sure to not step on any gravel or objects that might indicate his presence. He kept his distance to the figure as he was not sure exactly how observant the other was but stayed close enough to continue tracking him. What surprised Jason the most though, was how unpredictable the cat was when he moved. He flew through the city without any clear destination and it was honestly tiring. He even had to stop and take a breath every once in awhile because of how fast and persistent the other was in moving forward. 

After quite some time spent, just running across rooftops, slipping through alleyways and moving between the walls of different buildings, the figure slowed down and Jason thought he was finally going to stop. 

The tall man flinched at the sound of something next to his feet and his head shot down ready to locate whatever danger might rest there. But to his surprise, it was just a cat. The man sighed and scratched the cats chin from his crouched position next to it. The cat seemed to appreciate it and stroke its back towards his legs before it jumped up to the ledge of the roof and walked away in a swaying movement. 

The man snorted slightly and shook his head, he’d always had a soft spot for cats. _Shit, Stray._ Jason’s head snapped back up to check on the building where the man had been standing. 

But he was gone.

 _Fuck. Where the shit did he go?_ He looked around in confusion.

He’d been standing right there, a few rooftops away, just a second ago. As Jason looked around he realize he was now in the east ends of Gotham. The opposite side of town as they had started out in. Slowly, he made his way over to the building he’d seen the figure standing on top of. The roof was holding a water tower and a large wooden birdcage but none of the birds seemed the least bit interested in the man with a red helmet as he approached them. No cat in sight. 

_I swear to god, if this cat tricked me into going all the way out-_

“Well isn’t this a treat.” 

Jason turned around in less than a heartbeat and instinctively drew his gun to hold it out in front of him. But there was no one there. 

“Yoohoo tin can, I’m up here.” Jason looked up towards the voice and saw how a silhouette was painted against the moon on top of the water tower. 

“Stray.”

\---

 _Took you long enough to notice me._ Tim was sitting on the edge of the water tower with his legs crossed, slowly bopping the top foot to a steady beat. The Hood was now lowering his gun, letting Stray’s heart slow down slightly. Not that he ever showed his increased blood pressure, he’d been trained to hide it no matter what. Any act of anxiety or sign of increased stress levels were swiftly covered by a playful smirk or an elegant shift in position. 

“You really didn’t think you could follow me like this and go unnoticed, did you?” Stray purred with a slightly accusing look on his face. He didn’t even know if the Hood could see it but staying in character was everything for someone like Stray. 

The man below him seemed to be backing up to get a better look of Tim, the moonlight must have just painted him as a silhouette. Tim sighed dramatically and stood up. 

“If you wanted a better look you should’ve just asked.” He hopped off the top of the tower and slid down the metal pole that was holding up the tank of water, to land gracefully on the rooftop. 

“There we go.” Stray said with a satisfied glimmer in his eyes because of how the Hood had reacted upon seeing him properly. He'd obviously had something else in mind. Perhaps something older and more broody.

“What? Not what you expected?” He teased and moved around the man, staying out of reach as he tracked every slightest bit of movement from the other.

“You’re a tricky man to find.” The distorted voice came from within the red helmet and Tim’s nerdy brain immediately started to wonder whether it was built in or just the cause of ventilation filters and strained vocal cords.

“When I want to be.” The boy said with a grin. “One must play hard to get sometimes, otherwise the boys lose interest.” 

The Hood seemed even more taken aback by Tim’s flirty behaviour. _Really, what had this man expected from the boy who was raised by Catwoman? Was he slow or something? Seemed unlikely, since the man had all of Gotham around his little finger, and after such little time._ But the main question remained, what did he want from Tim? Did he want to kill him? _Wouldn’t he have shot me already then?_

“You sure are Catwoman’s sidekick.” The hood crossed his arms, some humor coming through the distorted voice. _So he’d met Selina? Weird,_ she never told him of that encounter.

“Former protegee.” Tim corrected him with a tsk and moving his index finger side to side, in a disapproving gesture. “I work alone now.” Which was true. He still teamed up with Selina every now and then, and she was still his ”mother”. But he was his own person too now, and he hated those who looked down on him. Underestimated him as just a kid brought up by someone powerful. _But oh, those were also so much fun to take down; seeing the look on their face as they realize just how wrong they'd been._

The Hood held up his hands as in a peaceful gesture, as if he hadn’t meant it as an insult. _Interesting..._

“I’m not here to start a fight with you, hopefully.” He said and let his and rest back down to his sides.

Tim had to admit, his interest was peaked by the surprisingly friendly behaviour of the other. But it was also clear as day that he wanted something. He had questions that he was holding back. 

Tim moved slowly and gracefully around the roof, he hated staying still. If you kept moving, it kept things loose, kept you out of reach and made for an easy escape if needed. He performed, - what he knew was a flawless - back walkover as he balanced on the edge of the roof. Something about the Hood’s earlier reaction had made him want to show off some, and what was the hurt in that really? After all, the Hood seemed to have a pretty nice body under all that armor. He bent his entire body backwards till his hands reached the ledge of the building and then kicked of with his feet, slowly letting them pass over him and then back towards the ground.

“If you’re here to ask if I sold you out to the Bat, I didn’t” He said as he straightened his posture, standing back up on his feet. “Let’s just say, me and the Bat doesn’t have the best history…” He moved in closer to the man, still out of reach. 

“So you don’t have to worry, I won’t rat you out.” He winked. 

The Hood went quiet for a bit, seemed to be thinking, and Stray used the time to circle the other’s body. _Damn he did look good._ Tim bit his lip slightly and relaxed his hand behind his back, observing the other. 

“I want your help with something?” _Hopefully in the bedroom._ Tim smirked and moved in closer, a bit closer than he should be. 

“Alright stud, and what would that be?” He flicked his finger over the symbol across the other’s chest. Tim realized how similar it was to the Bat’s and took a mental note of it. _Both Bat and Joker references to his image..._

“Scarecrow, he’s releasing a new drug soon. I’d rather it not hit the streets.” The voice wasn’t as playful as before, much more formal now.

_Short yet determined, I like it._

“What’s it to you? Don’t want to let the teens have some fun in this city?” Tim was testing him. He didn’t understand the Hood’s motives or intentions. They were confusing and didn't fit in with his image. So why did he want some drug to disappear, before it even existed in the first place? 

There was a slight twitch, not much but it was there, and it was enough for Tim to catch it. 

“I wouldn’t call kids in the hospital, hundreds dead, turned mentally ill or even crazy much _fun._ ” The Hoods voice was darker now, sounding more brute than earlier. 

Tim had to admit he was taken aback by the statement, he hid it though and played it of with a shrug as he pulled out from their dangerous intimacy. 

“I’ll consider it.” Stray said in a nonchalant manner. Not much to think about really, Tim would've stopped Scarecrow anyway. But getting involved with the Hood, he wasn’t so sure about that. Hood suddenly reached for his inner pocket and Tim pulled out his collapsible bo staff, from its hidden pocket on his back. He observed the other with a suspicious and slightly threatening look on his face, showing that the slightest wrong move would break out a fight.

The Hood’s hand momentarily stopped reaching and he spread apart his finger, showing that he wasn’t holding anything. 

“Cat got claws huh?” He proceeded to slowly grabbing an envelope out of the pocket. _No gun._ Stray relaxed and let his usual smirk be restored over his face. 

“A love letter for little ol’ me? I must say Hood, I would’ve taken you for more of a one night kind of guy.” Stray snickered and moved in closer to snatch the envelope from the other’s outstretched hand. 

“My contact information is in there. Once you’ve decided, let me know.” The hood took a step back, leaving space for Stray. _Now this was interesting._

“And if I say no?” Stray pushed it, he had to try and learn as much as possible about how this guy worked and expressed himself, so that he himself could be prepared for the worst.

“Then I won’t bother you again.” The Hood answered as he stepped further away from Stray and towards the edge of the roof. 

“Unless you want me to bother you.” _What was that supposed to mean?_

“But I do hope you say yes.” _There it was again. Something else. Not just a brute business voice that’d scare the crap out of anyone. There was something else coating the words… Was he flirting back?_ Stray was nonetheless left to figure that out himself, as the Hood disappeared from the roof and down into an alleyway without any further explanation. 

_Oh dear lord, what have I gotten myself into..._

\---

Jason basically collapsed at the door as he entered the apartment once again later that night. He dropped the helmet off at the usual spot, being on a small table next to the door, as he went inside, rubbing his face as if he was dreaming, trying to wake up. He couldn’t believe he’d done that. _Flirting on the job? Really Jason? And with fucking male Catwoman._

He really hadn’t been prepared for _anything_ about that man. _Or boy? Shit he’d been around Jason’s age..._ Once Stray had stepped out of the backlight of the moon and showed himself, Jason had thanked every god for the fact that he wore a helmet. He was pretty sure his jaw had actually dropped. _Stray was hot, like, hot as hell._

But really, what had he been expecting from the protegee of Catwoman. He was shorter than Jason, at least a head shorter. His body was… _oh god._ He had a slim figure but obviously still muscular. The skin tight suit had made sure to show that off. But he still seemed to have some protective armor around different parts of his body, leaving room for Jason’s imagination to run wild. He had a snug hood over his head and goggles covering his eyes, but if Jason hadn’t been mistaken, he’d seen a glimmer of blue beneath them. His hair had been jet black, and sticking out at the front, slightly uncontrollable but still very attractive. _And he had a fucking whip hanging from his utility belt._

Jason fell down onto his couch, staring up at the roof with a sigh. _Well, what was really the harm? The other had seemed pretty into it as well._ Jason smirked slightly feeling his confidence return. He got up and went over to his fridge where he grabbed a beer and immediately started drinking before he could overthink things again. _I mean, who was really to say that he couldn’t clean up Gotham AND have a little fun. Hell Bruce did it all the time with Catwoman… NO, no, no-no-no-no, not going there._ Jason started chugging his bear at the thought of the two adults going at it. _Oh god I hate my brain._ He leaned back against his kitchen counter and looked out through the small window next to it. Gotham was shining outside, thriving in the night. 

Maybe that’s what made him come back. After all, he wasn’t quite sure if the sole reason had been to clean up the city. There were many reasons to love Gotham, if you were somewhat disturbed - which honestly, most were these days. But Gotham was a place where you could be and do something… _different._ Jason had always found his strength here and he always would. But was that why he came back? Admittedly he’d kept some people in mind as he did. One in particular. But he had decided, to his better judgement, that _that_ person was most likely somebody else by now. In Jason’s memory he was just a goofy boy with a camera. And sometimes he did wondered where he was, and who he was now. But he couldn't find him. Not that he _couldn’t._ He just couldn’t do that to him. 

Jason wasn’t the same boy running around in a Robin costume anymore. He had luggage enough to suffocate anyone within three miles. So he stayed alone. Because after all, that was how he’d managed to stay alive so far. Someday he might end up trying to find that name, but that was not today. Jason was a danger, a liability. And in his mind, the boy, who was now probably a man, was better of without him. 

_Hell most people were._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! This is a lot of fun to write but as I’ve probably said many times, reading the comments and seeing people leaving kudos, it really does mean the world so thank you! <3
> 
> Also, what did you like best about this one? Let me know^^


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who’s ready for some wholesome Tim content???  
> Thank you guys for all the support and comments! I love you all <3 <3

_(Sunday)_

_Click._

Tim smiled as he lowered the camera, letting it rest around his neck. It was a sunny day and it felt like ages since he was last outside with his camera, just taking it slow. So when he’d woken up this morning after his encounter with the famous Red Hood, he’d decided to head out. He was wearing his fake piercings, - like he always did whenever he went out for some time as himself - a white t-shirt, an oversized red hoodie and some generic black jeans. 

His camera was hanging slightly crooked by its strap around his neck and his hair was messy, as usual. 

“Thanks James!” A small kid jumped off the rock he’d been posing on, held up his hand for a high five as he ran forward towards Tim. The raven-haired man chuckled and crouched down next to the kid, raising his hand to gently bump it into the kid's. 

“I’ll send it to your mom as soon as I get home later today, okay?” 

The kid nodded hysterically before running off again. His name was Cody and he’d become somewhat of a fan of Tim, or _James_ really. Whenever Tim was in the park taking pictures, Cody somehow tracked him down and always asked for a photo, before scampering off again. 

Tim really didn’t know how the kid always found him, but somehow they’d become friends during his time as _James._ It had all started one October day when Tim had been taking pictures of the park and the creatures living around it, when a slightly distant call for help had been heard from across the pond. Naturally, Tim had ran there as fast as possible to discover some teenage boys picking on the poor kid. Tim had tried to make himself look as tall as possible and walked in there with a booming voice, that always reminded him of Batman. 

“HEY! Get the hell away from him!” 

The teenage boys’ faces had drained of color and all of them had stumbled, trying to get away from the scary punk with piercings and clenched fists. 

Left behind was a young boy, reminding Tim of himself once upon a time when he too didn't know how to stand up to himself. He’d made sure the kid wasn’t injured, all the teens had done was teased him and pinched him slightly. Then he’d shown the kid how to punch and run if it ever were to happen again. And once the small blonde boy had seemed alright again - if anything he looked like he was bursting out of happiness by the time their conversation was finished - Tim had taken a picture to remember the moment. Thus, the tradition of taking pictures of strangers had begun. He took one for every new person _James_ met and they all laid neatly in a box at one of Tim’s apartments. Maybe it was a bit strange but it was tradition by now.

In the moment, Tim hadn’t thought much of the incident. But Cody had kept appearing, asking for pictures ever since. After some time he’d even brought his mother along, she was a very kind woman. The kind you imagined stories were written about. She’d been very keen on thanking Tim somehow for what he’d done but Tim had made it clear he didn’t want anything, because he’d only done what everyone _should_ do, in a situation like that. 

And as he’d offered the woman to send her the pictures he took of her son’s different silly poses, he’d somehow gotten invited for dinner because of it. 

The small family didn’t have a lot. Cody’s father had left without a word when he was too young to even walk and they certainly lived in an area one would deem _less secure._

Since Tim had learnt of this, Stray had made regular appearances around there, forcing most to take their business elsewhere. And an anonymous donor had also started gifting money every once in a while to the woman and her son. 

_If only I could do more,_ Tim smiled as he watched the kid disappear over the big lawn. 

The park was surprisingly full today. The open spaces of grass were covered by students and couples trying to catch some sun, as it was a rarity in Gotham. Even a few seniors were out on a walk. Tim had been out for at least an hour already but he wasn’t planning on going back any time soon. Today was just a bit too good. Sure, he had the most feared vigilante in the city looking for him and the most powerful crime lord wanting his service, but none of that mattered on a day like this. Tim was sitting, legs crossed, next to the same pond that he’d met Cody at for the first time. The sun was warming his face comfortably and he decided to try and move closer to the water to get some pictures of the animals living there.

He walked over to crouch down next to the tall grass growing from the more shallow parts of the water and he was just about to snap a picture of a dragonfly he’d spotted when the greens started moving around and a duck came charging out of it. 

The animal’s sudden appearance caused Tim to fall back in surprise and looked at the duck with slightly wide eyes before he started laughing. Following the duck were three small ducklets, all eager to prove their own capability of handling the water. The scene forced a fond smile on the boys face and he backed up slightly to give the family some space. He was just about to take their pictures when something told him not to. Some memories were just as beautiful left untouched by a camera. So he sat watching the life around him, picking at a straw of grass in his hand as he did. 

A part of him envied those around him. Regular people, who spent their days worrying about what to wear to their next date, if they would oversleep for work, or paying rent. Sometimes he felt like he’d give anything just for a taste of that life. But then he remembered how he got after having lived the _normal_ life for a couple of days. His fingers started to twitch and itch, longing after the feeling of intense programming or hacking. His legs and lungs craved the Gotham night air, running and jumping across the rooftops. And his heart ached at the sight of everything that was wrong about this city. So that’s why he didn’t stop. 

Besides, once you'd robbed a couple of corrupted men and art galleries you were pretty much set for paying rent, as in, for the rest of your life. 

However, the one thing that was bothering his peaceful surrounding now was the thought of last night's encounter with the Hood. Flirting on the job wasn’t anything new for Stray, but he hadn’t accounted for the fact that the Hood might flirt back. _That isn’t the problem Tim, geez._ He shook his head and laid down on the dry grass.

 _The problem is that one of the most powerful criminals around wants me to work for him..._

He sighed and thought back at what the other had said. He had told Stray that he’d leave him alone if he wasn’t interested. Tim hadn’t really considered that an option. He’d thought it’d been more of a, work for the Hood or die kind of deal. But the man had been surprisingly amiable. Tim really didn’t know how to feel about that. He could handle crooks and evil men, but this? A crime lord who flirted and played nice? He had no idea how to go about that. This was new territory. Maybe, if he was lucky, it was all just a facade, orchestrated by the Hood to fool him. Now that was something Stray could deal with. 

_He had looked pretty good though._

Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes, _I can’t think like this._ He grabbed his notebook and pens that had been spread out around him, shoved it into his messenger bag and got up. _Not on a beautiful day like this atleast._ Tim wasn’t much for going outside in general, he’d rather stay inside and work with his computer, but he was pretty sure he’d go insane if he did that today. He had to have some kind of distraction. 

And as if the universe was listening to his thoughts, he stumbled upon something. Or _someone._ He’d walked through some of the bushes to get to the other side of the water and when he looked up, he saw a man sitting against a tree, reading. 

The man didn’t seem to be aware of Tim’s presence yet, and the polite thing to do would’ve been to just walk away. But there was something holding Tim back. And it wasn’t just the fact that he was _really_ handsome. The stranger had the same shade of black hair as Tim, but at the front of it there was a white streak. He was muscular and from what Tim could see, he was probably pretty tall as well. The man was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans, nothing special really, but his clothes really did compliment him. 

And he was reading... _Pride and prejudice?_ Tim had to admit, it was surprising and didn’t look like anything a man of his size and looks would read, but if anyone knew not to judge the book by its cover, it was Tim. Hell, he wore a latex suit every night and ran around town, robbing rich folks. _Don’t think that’s what people assume when they see me, at least I hope so.”_

He realized he’d been pretty much staring after a bit and looked away, feeling a burning sensation make its way over his face and ears. _A picture?_ Tim looked down at his camera hanging around his neck. His fingers reached for it and before he knew it, he was taking a picture of the beautiful man sitting a few yards away. The low camera noise seemed to have alerted the other though and as Tim lowered his camera he was met with a pair of steely blue eyes. _Great job Tim._

He smiled slightly and walked over, trying to play it cool. _This would’ve been so much easier if I was Stray right now._

“Sorry about that, I have a bad habit of taking pictures of people I find interesting.” He said with an apologetic smile as he dropped the camera back down to rest over his stomach. 

The man seemed taken aback and looked as if he was thinking about something, but then the look of surprise was wiped away and replaced with a friendly smile. _Oh god._ Tim felt almost weak, _he was really gorgeous._

“No problem.” The man laid his book to rest on top of his lap and aimed his attention towards Tim. 

“Can I see it?” Now it was Tim turn to be surprised. Most people he photographed never cared to look at the picture, they were either all in a hurry to get back to whatever had been occupying them before or muttered something about kids these days. But he scrambled with his hands and pulled up the photo on the small viewer screen on the device. He sat down, crossed legged, next to the other and showed him the photo.

It was peaceful. One of the reason Tim took these kind of pictures. He knew that when he’d look back at it later, he’d remember this peacefulness. Just as he had several other photos that could remind him of other past days and emotions. It was truly magical in some ways.

The man let on a small smile and nodded carefully. “You’re pretty good at that.” He said and looked over at Tim. _Wow, his eyes are even more enchanting up close._ Tim pulled away his own gaze, afraid he’d start gawking otherwise and pretended to go through his camera roll. 

“Ah- Thank you.” He smiled looking down at his camera. He very rarely showed people his work, but hearing that someone appreciate it was always quite heartwarming. 

“So do you have a name that I should attach to the picture?” Tim asked and looked back at the other, slightly more bold this time. He usually asked for people's first names whenever he took their picture, and once he got home and printed the picture, he’d write a small note on the back with their names on it. _And I sound like a serial killer. Great._ But the name thing was actually a nice excuse for Tim to ask for the other’s name. 

The man hesitated slightly, causing a wave of pannick to rise within the shorter man, but then he opened his mouth. “Yeah, I’m Peter.” Tim smiled and repeated the name inside his head so it’d stick, though he wasn’t worried that it wouldn’t, not with this guy at least. 

“And you are?” Tim wanted to slap himself for forgetting to introduce himself, but didn’t show much other than the face of a slightly distraught teen. “Oh, right.” He chuckled and reached out his hand. “I’m-” _Tim._ “James.” 

The other was quick to accept his handshake and nodded. “Nice to meet you James.”  
_Oh, the pleasure is all mine._

“Have you been out here for long?” Peter asked and leaned back towards the tree, seaming slightly less on edge. 

“Do you mean the park or Gotham?” Tim quirked an eyebrow and looked around them. 

“Both, I guess.” The man answered and followed along, looking out at their surroundings. 

“Well I grew up here, but I got to the park about two hours ago I think?” Tim looked down at his clock as he answered. 

“How about you?” He continued the discussion forward, curious to see who this _Peter_ was. 

“I was born here.” The man shifted slightly and seemed to be thinking. “But I moved away when I was younger, and just came back.” _Lucky guy._ Tim thought to himself. 

Tim loved Gotham and wouldn’t ever want to leave it, but it sure was a shithole sometimes. So much pain and sorrow drenched the city that Tim was having a hard time figuring out why the other would be back here. But he guessed that everyone had their own reasons for being in Gotham.

“And I got here, here as in the park, about forty minutes ago.” Peter continued and broke Tim’s trail of thought.

“Do you go here to read?” He asked, gesturing towards the book that he’d seen the other read, now resting on the ground instead of his lap. It only seemed fair that he’d get to know the other's intentions of the day in the park, as he’d already revealed his own hobby, being photography. 

“It varies.” The other said and looked back at Tim. “Sometimes here, sometimes the local coffee shop and other times just the library.” Peter shrugged and looked over the cover of his book. He really wasn’t what Tim had expected...

_Wait, what library?_

“Do you go to school?” Tim asked, guessing the man was around his own age. 

“Yeah, Gotham State University.” 

_Fuck me._ Tim really shouldn’t be talking to him then. Because, that was the same school that _Tim,_ not James, _Tim,_ attended. Which meant that if they ever were to bump into each other at school, then that’d be pretty awkward to try and explain.

 _And - you know - that tiny little detail that my whole switching personality and identity thing would be completely wrecked._

He should be leaving, excuse himself and walk away. That was the safe way to play it, the way he’d always done it, because Tim wasn’t some idiot who’d risk everything for a dumb conversation with a hot guy.

But there was something that wouldn’t let him leave, just like it hadn’t let him leave when he’d stepped through the bushes and stumbled upon this man. 

\---

 _I’m officially an idiot._ Jason thought to himself after having started up the conversation with the other. His instincts had told him to break that camera, he wasn’t supposed to be captured like this. A photo could tear down more than one would expect. But then, when the lense had been lowered, something had shot through Jason’s head. A memory. 

At first, he had secretly hoped for another name, but it was definitely for the better that it hadn’t been him. James was interesting though. He had piercings and ruffled hair which made him look pretty badass and innocent at the same time. His eyes had one of the strongest shades of blue Jason had ever seen and his skin was porcelain white, making his charcoal black hair stand out even more. Really, he'd looked like some sort of magical creature as he'd appeared from the shrubbery. Jason had even forced his lips to stay closed. _The boy was gorgeous in every way._

“How about you?” Jason asked, thinking that the boy seemed to be around the college years as well.

“GSU” The other gave a smile and Jason felt excitement rush through him at the thought that he might see this guy again. Although, he wondered how the hell he’d ever missed James, he was like a walking edgy model. He even made a simple red hoodie look amazing. _How on earth haven’t I seen you around?_

“Nice, maybe I’ll see you around then.” Jason couldn’t help himself. 

“Maybe you will.” The other answered with a smile, but the smile seemed to also host the ghost of a smirk, which made Jason’s heart skip a beat.

“Well I should get going, got people to photograph and coffee to drink.” James stood up from his position next to Jason. “It was nice meeting you, Peter.” He said and smiled, scratching the back of his head as if he was unsure what to do with his hands. 

“You too, James.” Jason answered with a smile, that he knew showed just the right amount of flirtiness. The other seemed to have picked up on it and before he walked away, Jason was sure he’d seen a slight blush over the other’s cheeks.

 _Maybe this was a good day after all._ He thought to himself. 

When he’d woke up this morning, it had certainly not felt like a good day. He’d been tortured by a headache from too many beers last night and the stuffy air filling his poorly ventilated apartment. Stray still hadn’t contacted him, even though he had both an email address and phone number to do so by. In all honesty, Jason hadn’t planned to leave the apartment at all but once he’d seen the weather, he’d decided to got out and read instead of choking on the disgusting apartment air. He actually had work to do as the Red Hood, but he was also sure that if he started working, he wouldn’t stop checking his email or work phone, thus getting no work done at all anyway. So he’d left everything behind in the apartment and headed out with only his wallet and book. 

His legs had taken him to the park that he was currently in and he’d found the slightly secluded spot under the tree. And now, thanks to James, his headache was gone and he was definitely in a better mood. 

The thoughts of last night still swirled in his head but they weren’t as stabbing or loud as they had been during the morning hours. Now they were slowly drifting back into each pocket of priority and Jason knew that he couldn’t do much other than wait for the cat’s answer. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d let the man go if he wasn’t interested, but he was expecting an answer, whether it be yes or no. Also, just as he’d said last night, he really did hope for a yes. If Stray joined him in taking down Scarecrow then Jason was sure it’d be a matter of days till the nut case was back in Arkham, next to the Joker…

Jason didn’t allow himself to think too much of the clown, he knew that if he started, he wouldn’t stop till the clown was beaten to pulp and dead, his insane smile wiped away form that greasy face. Jason hadn't come to Gotham in pursuit of revenge, whatever Arkham did was most likely torture anyway for the clown. But every time the mad man popped into his head, he could instantly hear the distant noise of a hysterical laughter. The ghostly pains of ribs breaking and memories of the world going black. 

It had been the source of many, many, nightmares throughout Jason’s time back from the dead. The laughter wasn’t just a voice anymore, it was like a pair of hands, pushing him down, suffocating him. It crawled its way into his own mouth and jammed his throat, made it impossible to breathe. 

Even though the Red Hood had no intention of getting into Arkham. _Yet._ He always had men on the lookout, waiting to report back for the day when that psychotic clown would break out again. And when he’d do that, the Red Hood would be there, and make sure that before he died, he’d felt every last bone in his body break and crush. And he would know who had done it, hell, that might be the day he let the whole world now. 

_“Robin - back from the dead - killed the clown.”_

If that wouldn’t make the Hood a hero in the eyes of most, then he didn’t know what would. The Joker had taken _too_ many lives, ruined _too_ much. Most wanted him dead, even those working at Arkham. But the only one forcing people to keep their distance, was the one man who claimed to protect the entire city. 

When the day came, when the Joker would lay dead at the hands of Jason, he’d make damn sure that Bruce knew it was him who’d done it. Let the man know that _his_ biggest failure had caused it. Even toying with him now was fun, dropping hints and teasing the old bat. Saying things that only the inner circle of the Bat family would’ve known of. He could see it was driving the man mad.

_But I can’t completely reveal myself yet Bruce. I'm too busy at the moment._

_You see Bruce, I’m working on becoming friends with this guy. And I’m sure that together, we’ll make sure that this city won’t ever have to trust or rely on you again._

And so Jason got up from his comfortable seat on the ground and walked off, a small smile lingering over his lips. _This was definitely not a bad day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhhhhhhh, did you like it?  
> What did you think of our wholesome little boy Tim here?  
> And Jason lowkey looking for Tim everywhere?  
> Let me know what you thought X)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boy Tim needs love, that’s all I’m saying.  
> (Jason too tbh)

_(Wednesday)_

_Laughing.... Why is it so loud? Stop. Why are you doing this?_

_Screaming.... I recognize that voice… But, why is he screaming like that?_

_Jason…._

“What are you doing! Get out! Come on Jason, get out!” Tim yelled and punched the invisible wall in front of him. He pushed it as if it’d work this time. His knuckles and fingers bruised, cutting open from the pressure. The blackness closing in on both of them, the world willing to forget. 

“Jason!” Tim called out screaming at the top of his lungs. But Jason couldn’t hear him. He laid there as if he was already dead.

_Come on Jason you were the one who taught me to pick locks, you can do it._

“Get _up_ asshole! Get up, get up, get up!” Tim threw his body, shoulder first, towards the glass-like wall each time he called out. 

“No, no, no. Jason!” He kept yelling, the tears on his face falling towards the ground, his face twisted into a look of pleading, begging the boy to get up, move. Do _something._

He was right there, two yards away, tops. But Tim couldn’t reach him. He slid down the invisible surface, his beatings turning weaker and sniffles getting stuck in his throat. 

“Jason please, look at me…” He hulked and tapped the wall with his palm. “Come on Jason, please just look at me.” The boys eyes were covered by his hair and there was just the faintest sign of breathing by his ribs slowly moving up and down to the beat of the broken lungs inside. The red suit was torn, blood stained. His cheek was scratched and bruised. Lips slightly parted in an attempt to provide oxygen to his body. 

The jet black hair was the same as when he’d first met him but now slightly longer and it didn’t look soft or full of life anymore. Like his entire body, it was strained, not much life hanging on to it. He looked pale, too pale. He was always the one to tease Tim for his fair complexion, but now he was the pale one. No, he was practically translucent. Life seeping away. 

“Jason, don’t give up. I’m going to get you out... “ Tim pleaded and moved his hands over the wall, trying to find the slightest crack. Anything to indicate success in his previous punches. “Don’t give up Jason. It’s going to be fine.” He started pushing whatever kept him back, clenching his jaw from the pressure he was applying, gritting his teeth. He was so close, if he could only reach out his hands slightly more. He’d be able to catch the other’s arm, pull him into safety. Take him home. 

“Come on!” He called out, pushing as hard as he could, before he collapsed back down, hulking. Jason being so close but untouchable in every way. 

_5…_

“No, no-no-no.”

4… 3… 

“Jason just look at me… Please, I need to tell you something, Jason please!”

_2..._

“JASON!”

Tim shot up from the bed, gasping for air. His hand went up to his throat to try and recognize the threat, but he already knew that there was no one there. Just a ghost. But all the same, he couldn’t breathe, he was choking… dying. He scrambled with his hands to try and removed the sweaty covers that were twisting around his ankles, he was stuck. From the commotion he threw himself around and fell out of the bed, on to the cold stone floor, knocking whatever air that was stuck in his lungs, forcing it to come out of him. 

He twisted on the floor in a cramping motion, taking deep breaths as his hands started yanking off the t-shirt that was clinging to him. Slowly, Tim began forcingly taking deep breaths as he laid on the floor and stared up at the roof. He knew this. Deep breath in, 1...2...3…4...5… Hold, 1...2...3...4...5...6...7... And out, 1...2...3...4…6….9 Repeat. It was methodical, build into his brain as a survival mechanism. 

_This again? Why now?_

He laid wondering after a while as he’d gotten control and felt his chest rise and sink to a steady beat once again. It was Wednesday, early apparently since his alarm set for 6 AM hadn’t gone off yet. Whatever sun had decided to visit Gotham the last weekend was now gone. Replaced with the normal gloominess and rain threatening sky. 

This wasn’t the first time Tim had dreamt of this, but it was the first in a while. It confused the boy to why it had reemerged now. A little over ten years had passed and the memories were still haunting his mind. 

When the articles had started flooding the streets, new anchors covering the incident as if it was some historical event, Tim had refused to believe any of it. It was impossible. Even _he_ wouldn’t have been that reckless, to go to Sarajevo all alone. He’d never be so careless to be captured by anyone, let alone the mad clown. He’d never… he’d never die. 

But not long after he was forced to believe it. He had hacked into the security footage from the warehouse. Studied it, tried to find a possible outcome that the others had missed. Maybe he faked it all, or got away. Tim had sat in front of the screen for hour, days, studying the footage. His brain just wouldn’t believe it. It wasn’t possible, it just _wasn’t._ And that’s when the nightmares started. The internet told him he was suffering from PTSD, sleep paralysis and a bunch of other ridiculous things. There was no way he’d have any of those, because that would imply something had actually happened. He was convinced that he was missing something. Something his body was trying to remind him of, by repeatedly taking him there, trying to show him. 

During later years, he’d been forced to get help, by Selina’s orders. He had tried to hide the dreams from her, but hiding things from Catwoman was practically impossible. She’d sent him to a shrink of some kind, and no matter how angry he’d been at the time, it had actually helped with the nightmares, with accepting it all. And they were pretty much gone. That was, till now at least. 

During the following years of his passing when Tim had been the most wrapped up in it, Wayne Enterprise had suffered gravely from an anonymous hacker who was never caught. Same went for Batman and his beloved batcomputer and private network. It had taken Tim thirty-eight hours to hack into the batcomputer unnoticed, but once he had, it had been worth it.

He never did anything too bad. He just wanted to let out some of his anger. And who better than the one person that should’ve been protecting him.

The alarm went off, pulling Tim back to his room on earth, forcing him up with a frown at the high pitched sound. He grabbed his phone and turned it off. Three days had passed since his encounter with the Hood and he still hadn’t decided whether or not he would agree. 

_Well, one brain damaging problem at a time, okay?_ Tim got to his feet and headed out to the kitchen, he had work to do.

\---

“Here you go.” The girl said in a slightly over the top cheerful voice as she placed the plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes in front of him, to continue on with refilling his coffee cup that was already empty after having only been there for a few minutes. The waitress was cute. She had long brown hair and blue eyes, although nothing compared to what James’ had looked like. 

When Jason had entered the diner that morning, she had obviously caught eyes for him as she wasn’t even supposed to waiter this table. He was pretty sure he’d seen her bargain with another girl over who’d take his order. And Jason did think she was cute, normally he’d probably try and show an interest but at the time he was too exhausted. That, and the fact that a specificcat was pretty much occupying his mind these day.

“Thank you.” Jason said but avoided eye contact with the girl. She seemed to get the hint, although somewhat disappointed, and moved on towards the other side of the room, to take more orders. 

As Jason looked around he saw that most customers were industrial workers or men who worked night shifts at different facilities around the city. Jason blended in quite well, if you overlooked how young he really was compared to many of the men around him. He had the strong physic resembling someone who worked with carrying boxes or managing construction sites. But that wasn’t what kept him busy during the nights. 

Last night, one of the leading drug lords of Gotham (who worked under the Red Hood’s protection) got attacked. Jason sometimes wondered if they actually hired such awful security just to force him to do the work. The wealthy man had been dragged out of his house in the darkness of the night. Luckily for him, Jason had hidden bugs in the houses to all those who operated under him, and they were regularly monitored. He’d received a call from the person monitoring it around 1 AM, and he’d found the kidnapper’s hideout not long after. Turnes out that they had just been low level thieves who were looking for money. Instead they got a fair askicking and ran away, tail between their legs. 

So taking out the kidnappers had really been easy, almost laughable. But the shitshow wasn't over there. The bat and his demon spawn had showed up just when he was wrapping up. _They really do love to meddle in other's business._

Them meddling was nothing new. However, what had surprised him the most had been the fact that the little guy hadn’t stopped talking about Stray. Robin had showed up first for some reason, most likely because he’d tracked the Hood without telling the bat. Sometimes Jason wondered if Bruce was just oblivious to what his children really were capable of, or if he just simply had too much faith in them. Jason wasn’t really sure which was worse. 

Robin had of course not stayed clear and waited for his mentor to show up, as Robins were instructed to do, at least when it came to big bad guys like the Red Hood. No, the kid charged at him like a druggie who’d just caught eyes on some new merchandise. There was no confusion in why the new Robin had gotten such devilish nicknames, he really was the devil incarnate. 

Jason was also pretty sure that the boy had something for the infamous cat burglar as he wouldn’t shut up about him. He kept asking the Hood what he wanted from him, if he had kidnapped the cat, and saying that he’d kill Jason if he did anything to Stray, who apparently was a thief deserving of mercy in the young boy’s eyes. It would have been adorable, hadn’t it been that Jason was forced to listen to it all whilst blocking punches and kicks. He wasn’t about to shoot or go into offence towards some lovesick little boy. Even he drew the line there. 

So instead he’d throw some punches, knocking the other back and waited patiently for the big guy to show up. And like the _'hero'_ he was, showed up he did. The shadow of the bat was cast down on the warehouse they’d been dancing around in and Jason could feel his mouth twitch into a devilish grin. 

“Sleeping on the job these days?” He’d called out, teasing the figure.

The brute figure had ordered his little minion to step back and to Jason’s surprise he’d actually listened. Which meant that they took him seriously. _Good._

Jason knew of Bruce’s weak points, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t challenging. So it had all ended in a chase through the streets of Gotham. Not that Jason wouldn’t have loved to kick his ass, but it wasn’t the time or place. Luckily, Jason had gotten away with the help of the underground train system. 

He sipped his second cup of coffee and started eating with a slight frown. Every time he swallowed he felt a stabbing pain at his side. He was sure that he hadn’t broken anything, he knew what that felt like. But he was also pretty sure that he had at least bruised a handful of ribs. 

Personally, Jason prefered drinking tea over coffee. Coffee just wasn’t his thing, but after having been up all night and now having to go to college for a classes, he needed it.

Although college was taxing and draining, honestly a pain in the ass, Jason did enjoy to learn. He always had. Even as a young kid he had aspirations regarding his educations, but that all went away...

He finished his food and coffee and got up to go and pay. There was another girl at the register than the one that’d taken his order. He handed her a hundred dollars and told her to keep the change, it wasn’t like he was low on cash, might as well give some to the true heroes of society. Minimum wage workers. She seemed shocked as she looked down on the bill, but before she was able to react, Jason was already leaving the diner, shoving his hands into his pockets as he entered the cool, refreshing morning air. The jacket was just a generic bomber jacket, sure to not draw attention as every other kid in the city wore one. He missed his leather jacket though, it was almost like a security blanket, a second skin. But _Peter_ couldn’t be seen wearing it, it’d pull too much attention to him. It didn’t fit the image. 

“Breaking news! Breaking news!” Jason walked passed a newspaper hawker and growled slightly as he yelled straight into his ear, passing by. 

“Scarecrow’s promise to take down the Hood!” Jason stopped dead in his tracks. _What did you just say?_

He turned to the man selling the papers and snatched one from his cart, starting to go through the pages. But before he knew it, the pages disappeared and when Jason looked up, the salesman looked at him with a disapproving expression. 

“No previews.” He stuck out his chin, as if he thought he was worth ten times Jason. 

Jason growled as he pulled out a paper bill from deep inside his jeans pocket and slammed it into the man’s outstretched hand. The salesman didn’t seem too bother though, he just handed Jason the paper with a disgustingly nice smile, the kind that wasn’t friendly at all. Jason shot him a glare and walked off, starting to rip through the pages of dumb articles till he got to he main one. 

_Anonymous tip, telling Gotham to be ready._

“The GCPD received an anonymous tip two days ago, claiming to be Arkham patient Jonathan Crane, otherwise known as the Scarecrow. No verified quote was released regarding the exact words of the letter but inside sources said it had been to warn Gotham; 

“Gotham, beware. As you may have heard, we recently obtained a new power house, claiming what isn’t his to claim. But not for long. My new serum will make sure of that. And once the Red Hood is out of the picture, we can all restore this city to its former glory. One where no one has to listen to this _Hood._ And while we’re at it, let's have some fun.” 

Jason read it over and over again as he walked, slowly coming to a halt, standing still on the sidewalk. _This was fucking bad._ Jason still didn’t have any leads on _what_ the man was up to, and he didn’t even have a location. He’d have to start looking by himself soon, considering that the men working for him really seemed to be shit at about every task they were given. 

Jason looked back and he opened his mouth to ask who printed the paper as they were missing information regarding the publisher, but the man who’d sold it was already gone, having moved on to a more active block. This was all strange, but if the Scarecrow was ready to take this public, then he wasn’t messing around. _Shit, I could really use that cat’s answer now, I need to know how to approach this._ Jason threw the paper in a trashcan as he continued down the street, trying to figure everything out. 

_A new serum…_ If it was anything like what Scarecrow had been known for before, then this could get out of hand, and fast. Worst part being, most of Gotham’s major villains were probably ready to back him up if needed, because his plan promised it’d take care of the Hood. The Red Hood had gotten quite the reputation as a party pooper among the big players of the criminal world. 

Seven months ago, when he started taking over, he’d made it clear that it was strictly forbidden to be dealing to kids or around schools. Those who didn’t obey severely regretted it. Or they would’ve, but they were dead so it was kind of hard to show remorse. He’d also made sure to get a generous cut of the cake when it came to the black market profits. He had more money than he’d ever need, but the more he obtained meant the less was left for those scumbags, and that was all that mattered. 

He fished out his phone from his inner pocket and started dialing. Time for his men to stop sitting on their asses and actually do something.

\---

Tim was now on his ninth cup of coffee of the day, and it was only 5 PM. Meaning there was still time for much more to be consumed. He’d been sitting at the coffee shop for hours, switching between coding for school and for Stray. No one could tell the difference between his different projects anyway, so he usually told people that he was working on a blog if they asked. In reality he might as well have been working on planting bugs inside WE (Wayne Enterprise). No one would know.

He felt his fingers twitch from their nonstop work on the keyboard and stretched them out over the buttons as he sighed, leaning on his elbows over the table. He turned his head slightly to the left and looked out at the bypassing crowd. 

He’d seen the news regarding the Scarecrow’s threat, his phone had alerted him this morning. He’d programmed it to always send a notification whenever the major villains of Gotham were mentioned in articles or news reports. This morning it had alerted him of both the Red Hood and Scarecrow. He’d placed the remains of his explosive thoughts regarding it at the back of his head, chaining them there. A desperate attempt to _not_ have to deal with it at the time. But the thoughts had been resurfacing all day, and each time they did he’d ordered another cup of whatever strongest coffee the shop offered. 

At one point a female barista had come over with a concerned look, asking if he wanted them to call someone. It was laughable, he was like a drunk but with coffee. Though he couldn’t blame them. He’d be worried if he’d seen himself without context to why he was drinking so many caffeinated drinks. 

_You try staying up all night as a famous cat burglar, and still stay up during your nights off because of nightmares. It ain’t fun._ He’d snap at them, but only in his head. 

Of course, his response to the woman earlier had been a polite no, followed by another order. 

Tim’s phone buzzed from where it was resting next to his computer and his hand instinctively grabbed it without much thought to the movement. He looked down to see a text from Selina. She was heading out of town for a few days and was wondering if Tim wanted to come with her. Apparently going to New York. _Wonder if she’ll get her hands on something pretty?_ The Stray part of Tim’s brain awoke. 

Every time he and Selina went out of town together, they played a sort of game of who could steal the nicest things. Most money they’d make from it would be donated to various charities, but it was still fun. Like a family vacation activity. A really weird one. 

New York had always been a sort of favorite of Tim’s. The luxurious penthouses, art galleries and museums. The thrill of it even made Tim smirk as he thought of it from his seat at the coffee shop. 

Selina knew that Tim loved New York and he had a feeling that _that_ might just be why she was going there. He hadn’t confronted her about the incident with Harley and Ivy yet, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he ever would. But he knew that she was thinking of him. Maybe she wanted him to come with her so that he’d be away from all this shit going down with the Hood and Scarecrow. He couldn’t blame her. This was the first really big thing in a while, and Tim was smackdown in the middle of it. 

_Sorry, I can’t. But bring me back something pretty ;) -TD_

She answered with a short _”okay”_ and a heart emoji. She didn’t know that the Hood had offered him a way out, all he had to do was say no. And he wasn’t sure why he was keeping this option from her. It wasn’t like them to keep secrets from each other. But maybe it was because he knew that she’d try and get him to _not_ do it, if she knew he had such a simple choice. 

_But if it was such a simple choice, then why am I having such a hard time saying no. Why haven’t I just texted the man a simple no yet?_ Tim pulled up the phone number from his contacts. He’d saved it as _Tincan,_ the nickname sort of growing on him. His fingers started typing away in the text conversation. He knew that the Hood wouldn’t be able to track his number, he had a program on it, making it impossible to track it for those he didn’t want to be able to. He stopped typing and took a deep breath. _Will he really stay true to his word?_

Tim’s thoughts started drifting as he looked out through the window. He saw a mother and a child, resembling Cody, across the street. But this kid was much younger, stumbling as he walked around his mother who was reading the paper, waiting for the bus. She wore a concerned look, her eyebrows tugging towards each other. _Must be the article on Scarecrow..._

 _What kind of serum had the man concocted this time..._ Tim finally allowed his brain to go through the many thoughts and questions that had been brewing inside of him. He rubbed his eyes as he leaned back. Scarecrow was notorious throughout the city and anyone with a sane mind would turn the other way at the sound of his name. There was nothing safe about the man and he was most definitely to be feared. 

Tim had luckily never encountered the man himself, but when he’d hacked into the batcomputer he’d reviewed footage of all the major players of Gotham. The ones of Jonathan Crane had been particularly… disturbing. There were psyche analyzes, old footage as to when he’d first experimented with the fear gass and videos showing the effects of his work. Once you’d seen all of that, you couldn’t unsee it. Tim never shied-away from the gruesome reality that was life, he forced himself to watch, to believe and to understand. 

It wasn’t what one would call a healthy habit, but it had been with him for some time. Keeping him alive. If he couldn’t watch it on video or read of it, how was he ever supposed to deal with it in real life? If Scarecrow was coming back, at least Tim would be ready with his background knowledge. The key to any successful victory; know your opponent.

If this new serum was anything like the what Scarecrow had been locked up for in the first place, then it couldn’t be good. _Actually, it’d be fucking hell if it was. This city has been through enough pain because of guys like him, Bane, Croc and the Joker. No more._

Tim grabbed his phone once again and hit send. It was done. He had made a decision, and there was no going back now.

_I’m in. -Stray_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I really think you’re going to like what I have planned for the upcoming chapters!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are finally happening ;))

_(Saturday, early evening)_

Jason was sitting on top of the same roof, in the east ends of Gotham, as he’d met the cat for the first time. Three days had passed since he got the message from Stray and they had made sure to schedule a meeting as soon as possible. That being today. Stray had insisted in meeting outside for some reason, so Jason had proposed the same roof as their first encounter. 

The nocturnal city was full of life, but no one would ever stop to look for a cat and hooded figure resting above them on the rooftops. Saturday nights were also reserved for the wealthiest of Gotham, to spend their nights doing a variety of different activities. There was always some gala or event available for those that had the money to attend. 

For example, tonight there was a big art exhibition and masquerade, showing pieces from all over the world, taking place on the north side of the river. Most of Gotham’s wealthiest families were attending and the GSPD had their eyes and ears on it, leaving room for Jason’s worries to gradually make their way back to the rear of his head instead of hammering his forehead. The prestigious event had been broadcasted over every news channels for weeks, it was supposed to be the event of the year. Even though a very thin percentage of the population had the means to attend it. 

Really it was loathsome. Rich folks who got together to gloat in their wealth, all at the same time neglecting the economical crisis that was an ongoing battle throughout the whole city.

Just tonight alone, on his way to the meeting point, Jason had passed at least a dozen overcrowded homeless shelters. And just a few miles north of it, there were people wearing jewellery worth millions, walking around a luxurious buffet, huffing in distaste to the smallest detail that might be to their displeasure. 

During his time as Robin, and son of Bruce Wayne, he’d always hated those events. They’d make him sick to the core, and he still didn’t understand how Bruce kept up such a disgusting image whilst attending them. The people who showed up for them were truly sickening. 

He wondered where Stray fitted in, in this huge puzzle that was Gotham. Was he from a family that had no roof over their heads, or one of those that were privileged enough to turn food down if it didn’t suit their delicate palette? No matter where he came from, he certainly had money now, considering the work he’d performed. But had he started out of a need for money or some other reason? And what would that be?

However, the Hood’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of moving gravel from across the roof. Stray had arrived and he was letting Jason know, before emerging from behind the water tower. 

Jason stood up from his seated position. He’d been at the roof an hour earlier than they’d said to meet, just to make sure that nothing had been rigged. It hadn’t. 

“Stray.” The distorted voice greeted the cat, making an effort in keeping it professional. But just as last time, the other’s looks almost floored him. 

“I haven’t kept you waiting, have I?” Stray’s purring voice sent shivers down Jason’s spine as he moved closer from his position on the opposite side of the roof. 

“Not at all.” Jason said with a slight smirk under his hood. “I was glad to hear you accepted my offer.” He continued, thinking back at the slightly embarrassing memory of when he’d received the answer. He’d been getting dressed, so far only in boxers,when his phone had buzzed from its place on the bathroom counter. Hair still dripping down water onto his back from the shower and when he’d seen the text he’d almost jumped. Which unfortunately lead to him almost slipping on the wet floor. _Almost._

“Well… About that.” The cat averted his eyes and tied his hands behind his back, walking around Jason like he’d done the last time. Although, no matter if he _seemed_ relaxed, Jason knew the cat would pick up on even the slightest bit of ill placed movement. Jason’s eyes pinned the other as the cat seemed to have a hidden motive or something else in his mind. Not what they had agreed on.

“What?” He asked in a slightly demanding voice. Had he changed his mind already? Did he want something in exchange? Well, he could really have as much money as he wanted, but Jason was pretty sure the cat was well nourished regarding that. So what _did_ he want?

Stray cleared his throat with an amused look. “You see, I’m not really the kind to storm into something without knowing _what_ I’m getting myself into.” He gave Jason a playful glance and Jason was sure that he was hinting at the Hood’s reputation of being careless and impulsive. It wasn’t _not_ true, but Jason was also not the one to skip his background checks either. 

“What do you want Stray? I don’t like games.” Jason said and felt slightly annoyed at how easily the man could press his buttons, and be wildly attractive at the same time. 

Stray looked at him with a forged look of heartbreak. “Oh, but I had so many fun little games and activities planned out for us.” _Jesus christ, the mouth on this one should be illegal._ Jason thought to himself and swallowed hard. Stray seemed content with the reaction he’d gotten out of Jason, a minimal tension of his muscles, no more, and no more was needed. So he continued on, but now in a less teasing manner. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I don’t do business with just anyone.” He stopped pacing and rested a hand on his hip. “I like to test the product before purchasing.” He grinned viciously and Jason felt himself bite his lip. 

“I don’t have time for flirting with you Stray.” _Even though I’d love to._ Jason stated and crossed his arms. He had to know the cat’s decision as fast as possible, without him, Jason would have to come up with a new plan for Scarecrow. 

“Oh you’re such a bore Hood. Live a little, stop tensing up every three seconds.” Stray sighed and moved some hair out of his face, it was just as uncontrollable as last time. 

“No matter how tempting, I didn't mean it that way.” He continued on, dropping the act somewhat, and walked back to where he’d appeared from earlier. He grabbed something out of the shadows and threw it over to Jason. A duffel bag landed in between them with a thump. Jason looked at it with a suspicious expression and then back at Stray, not making any attempt to get closer to the bag. 

“It’s not a bomb.” Stray reassured and leaned against the water tower’s metal beams. 

Jason hesitated somewhat but then slowly made his way over to the bag and crouched down next to it, glancing back to the cat every other second to try and determine what he was up to. When Stray had proven that he wasn’t about to run away, Jason unzipped the bag and opened it up. What he was looking down at took him a second to process. 

Inside laid a neatly folded tux, accompanied by shoes, an earpiece and a red mask. “I hope I got the size right, lucky me I took notes last time.” Stray smirked, enjoying whatever plan he was now executing. Jason picked up the mask carefully and studied it before aiming his gaze back up at the cat, with a confused expression enough to radiate through the metal between his face and the other’s. 

The raven-haired man was hosting a satisfied and devious smirk over his lips as he pushed back from his position against the tower and walked towards the other. “I assume you know of the annual Gotham Art Exhibition that is taking place tonight. This year’s theme being mystery and secrets.” Stray continued his usual pacing as he spoke. “Also hosting pieces such as ‘The Last Day of Pompeii’ by Karl Bryullov and ‘La Promenade’ by Monet…”

“What about it?” Jason asked and stood up. “You want to go on a date, is that it?” He said playfully, mimicking the other’s smirk. Stray seemed slightly taken aback by this side of Jason. Most likely never expecting for his flirtatious behaviour to be replicated by the other part. But Jason sure knew how to play this game, and he widely appreciated the reaction it got out of Stray.

Stray grinned and recovered from the surprise. “No, but I’ll certainly keep that in mind.” Jason felt his stomach clench. _Remember, he’s a cat. He does this to everyone, don’t fall for it._ A voice told him. 

_So?_ Another voice popped into his head, the same that had made his jaw drop the first time he saw Stray.

“Then what are you playing at?” Jason ignored the voices, interested to know where the other was going with this.

Stray moved in closer, and for the first time during the night he was within reach. Jason felt how the other pressed a thin index finger against his chest, leaning in with a seductive and dangerous look. Jason could now see the shadow of the other’s eyes behind the goggles, and they were blue, insanely blue. Almost taking the breath out of him. But all the same, they made him want to run, because they were sharp, deadly. And they were trouble, in one way or another. 

Stray’s lips were pink, his skin fair and tongue playfully showcased between his teeth as he grinned. “We’re going to rob it.”

_Mmm ye-Wait. WHAT?_

\---

Tim could basically see the chocked expression of the other through the helmet and it was amazing, almost made him break character to laugh. But just almost. 

“You know what robbing is right? You steal, take something that isn’t really yours.” Tim tilted his head and mockingly quirked an eyebrow. 

“I know what a fucking robbery is, but the annual goddamn G.A.E? Are you insane?” The voice from behind the mask seemed more anxious than planned and it only made Tim even more curious to who was behind it. 

“Debatable.” Tim shrugged and backed up again. Never stay too close, that’s how a cat loses its lifes. 

“You do realize that every cop in this city will have their eyes and ears on it, right?” The Hood wasn’t wrong. It was the event of the year, no one would be dumb enough to try and rob it. Well, one person had a couple of years back but they got caught, not really serving as much of a motivation for anyone else to try it.

“I know, makes it ten times more fun.” He snickered in response. If there was anything that Tim enjoyed, it was a challenge. There were few of those around these days. And the Hood seemed to be a recent one, but he was a risk. He wanted to see who this man was before agreeing to take on Scarecrow with him. And what better way than to test him than with what anyone else would deem insane or impossible. 

Tim had been following the news idly for weeks, the back of his head nagging, begging him to go for it. Maybe he was a bit of a clepto but what was the harm? Those people had more than enough to live a wealthy life. Most didn’t… It was repulsive to think of. So once the Hood had appeared and Tim figured he was going to help, he’d come up with this as a way of testing his possibly new partner. 

The Red Hood went quiet for some time, thinking of what the cat had sprung on him. The gala was set to start in three hours, which would give them enough time to run through Tim’s already well thought out plan. 

“So we’re risking our asses for… fun? You can’t possibly be in need of the money. Not after the things I’ve heard of you.” He finally spoke with a tone that was severely questioning Stray’s sanity. “What, are you some little rich boy who wants to mess with your parents?” 

Stray dropped his usual smirk and looked at the other, now with a cold expression. 

“You should know better than to make assumptions like that.” He answered and lowered his hand from his hip where it had been resting. “You may think that you’re fighting crime by taking down the big guys, stopping mass shootings and keeping a firm grip of all those crooks.” Tim said in a monotone voice. “Good job. Bravo.” He said the last word coated in sarcasm. “But those are just the villains in the spotlights. Who do you think run the works backstage?” He jumped up on the ledge, feeling the other’s eyes digging into his back as he himself gazed down over the streets. 

“This city is dying. People are starving, kids have no homes. Who’s fault is that? Can we blame the Penguin? Can we blame Don Falcone?” He turned around and lifted an eyebrow but not expecting an answer. 

“Who decided that these kids were to have _nothing...._ Whilst those north of the river has more than they could ever possibly need?” Tim felt a sting in his chest just from thinking of it. Gotham was sick, but some of the worst parts were overlooked because they weren’t operated by a mad clown or famous drug lords. They were ordinary people. People neglecting other fellow humans, ignoring their basic needs for their own comfort. 

Having been born into a wealthy family, Tim had gotten a taste of it. Luxury was amazing, something no one would turn down. But that wasn’t an excuse. Once his parents had passed away, and his father had made sure to drink and gamble away most of the money. Tim had been left with practically nothing. He’d lived off of what the streets could supply him with, forgotten by the system. The city had wanted to forget the Drakes. After all, a kid who’d lost everything and lived with an addict father must have been totally screwed up. 

Then Selina came around, took him in. In the eyes of the city he’d grown up in a foster home. But those were all lies made up by his foster parents. They’d never given a shit about him. They just liked the monthly paycheck they’d been given by the city. So legally, he was a part of the Johnson family. In reality he’d never spent a single night in that family’s house. 

The Hood seemed to realize he’d hit a nerve and Tim prepared for a mockery. Surprisingly enough, nothing of the sort came. The Hood stayed quiet slightly longer before he spoke again. 

“You’re right.” He confirmed, to Tim’s surprise. “So what’s the plan?” 

Tim observed the other with a surprised look. He hadn’t expected the Hood to actually agree with him. He didn’t have to. He just had to cooperate. The man kept surprising him, and it was an exciting change for the cat. 

“Well, I hope you like acting Romeo.” He jumped back down from the ledge and walked closer again. “We’re up for an interesting night as the upper class of Gotham city.” Tim grinned, the way he always did as Stray. 

Sometimes he wished he could bring out more of Stray as Tim. He was confident as Stray, knew how to push the right buttons, how to get what he wanted, get the reactions he wanted. The memory of the park where he’d met Peter dropped into his mind. _God I’m awkward as Tim. Or James. Whatever._

But he also knew that during those few moments when he had showcased the Stray parts of him as Tim, he’d regretted it instantly. It was too great of a risk, a risk he couldn’t take. 

The Hood crouched down too look through the bag once again and Stray joined him by sitting down next to the other, but with enough of a distance between them to be able to slip away with ease. 

“You’re kidding me? You want me to dress in this?” He said and looked at Tim with a look that he knew was tired from just thinking of it. It only made Stray’s smirk grow wider. 

“So not a roleplaying guy then?” He teased and pulled out an touch screen from a hidden compartment placed around his shoulder blades. It was convenient to not have to bring his computer everywhere. The Red hood scoffed at his comment but Tim swore he heard a smile behind the helmet.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there as well.” He said and thought back to his own suit, hanging in his apartment. He pulled up some blueprints and drawings of the building the event was being held at. All the possible entrances and escape routes were marked out with yellow and green. Guard stations were red and so were security cameras, but dots instead of Xs. 

“This is the main entrance.” He pointed towards the south side of the building where there would be a red carpet and news anchors ready. A grand entrance made for the dramatic arrival and departure of the guests. Big glass windows, lots of people. The Hood leaned closer and looked down on the screen “I’ll be entering through the roof’s air duct and you’ll be coming through the kitchen staff entrance over here.” He pointed to the opposite side of the building to the main entrance. 

“We don’t want to be seen entering together, wouldn’t want to alarm the Bat about our relationship now would we?” Tim said, not thinking much of it. But the Hood definitely seemed to, because he was sure that he heard him snort behind his helmet. Tim looked up at him as if he was going to say something.

“Nothing, go on.” The Hood held up a hand apologetically and gestured for Tim to go on. He lingered with returning his gaze towards the screen but eventually did. 

“The security for this is crazy. There are guards at every entrance and a minimum of two police cars at the front.” He pressed a button and every red dot on the screen started blinking as to clarify what he was talking about.

“And what are we supposed to do about that?” The Hood pointed towards the kitchen entrance, also showcasing a guardpost, and Stray smiled. 

“There’ll be someone going out with the trash at precisely 10:13 and you’ll be given his apron. The whole staff is also wearing masks and black suits, orders of the comite arranging it. Hopefully the guard won’t notice that the person who walks out with the trash won’t be the same who goes back in.” 

“And is this person just supposed to willingly hand over their clothes to some stranger?” The Hood asked, and Tim imagined him raising an eyebrow as he did. 

“Well he’s an… acquaintance of mine. He already knows of the plan.” Stray answered and he could tell the Hood got curious. “No need to get jealous, I helped him out of a debt once.” He teased and the Hood shifted in his position next to the other.

“Once we’re both inside we’ll rendezvous in the main hall, if you’ve never been there it basically looks like a ballroom.” Tim continued, fighting the urge to further comment on the Hood’s behaviour. “Once you’re inside, make sure to act normal.” He pointed out and shot the other a glance to emphasise it. “Have some champagne, eat some food, engage in some boring conversation with the crowd. Just don’t pull attention to yourself. Then at midnight they will address the grand event of it all, the revealing of a Michelangelo sculpture will take place in the main hall.” He pointed towards the area next to the west wall of the room, where he’d been informed there’d be a stage. 

“Conveniently enough, that’s when we’ll slip out to ’stroll’ around the rest of the exhibition.” He zoomed out the map to reveal the maze like pattern of corridors surrounding the grand hall. Each room, in each corridor held pieces of different artists. “This.” He pointed to a room in one of the northern hallways. “Will be our objective. It’s hosting pieces of Henri Matisse. Hopefully, most guests will be gone by then.” 

“What about security?” The hood asked and looked up at Stray from the device.

“The guards keep a rotating schedule of wandering the halls.” He traced his finger along the route he knew the security personal would be following. “Security cameras will be disabled, running on a loop.” He gestured to the many red Xs across the map. 

“Time will be tight, but not a problem unless something goes wrong.” Tim said and looked over at the Hood who was now scanning the map with his eyes. 

He leaned back and looked over at Stray. “And what _if_ something goes wrong?” 

Tim pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, never happened before.” He grinned and pressed a couple of buttons on the screen. A swooshing sound could be heard as he emailed all the data to his now partner in crime. 

It wasn’t completely true that he’d never failed before. There had been plenty of mistakes, plenty of times, when he’d first started out. But Selina had always been there to help if it was needed. Nowadays, mistakes rarely happened. And if they did, Stray always got out of it, _always._

“But _if_ something goes wrong…” His voice was light as he leaned back. “ You either run, or have your gun ready.” He put the screen back in it’s compartment. “But _no one_ dies.” He shot the Hood a glare who nodded to show his agreement. 

“Fine. But how are we getting out?” 

“Theartics.” He smirked deviously. 

\---

About an hour later, Jason was back at his apartment, standing in his bathroom whilst dying his hair. He was temporarily covering up the white streak as he wouldn’t be able to wear his helmet tonight. The streak served as too much of an identity marker for Peter and he couldn’t risk anyone making that kind of connection. 

He’d been reviewing the data Stray sent him whilst letting the hair dye take its effect and the building looked just like it had when Jason was younger. He’d been to several events there together with Bruce, so he wasn’t exactly worried about navigating once inside. It was quite the majestic building. It consisted of three stories, which wasn’t a lot for Gotham. But the main entrance was wrapped in giant glass windows, and the enormous lobby that you could see through them was just as luxurious as you’d expect. A huge crystal chandelier casting its light all the way to the streets outside. Jason remembered how the crown had to be strung up with heavy metal chains because of its size and weight. 

It might also have been for one reckless Robin that had once swung from it and it came crashing down because of it. Bruce had not been happy but Alfred found it funny, so Jason had no regrets. 

He had to say that he was impressed by Stray’s plan, and especially the cat’s motive behind it all. A part of him had been worried that the other was just some rich kid who sought petty revenge in this all, but those thoughts were long gone by now. Perhaps he was from the upper class system, but if he was, then that didn’t matter. He saw the rotten parts of Gotham that so many other overlooked, even Jason at times. 

He rinsed through his hair as the images of earlier played on repeat in his head. Stray’s whole aura had changed as the topic had risen between them. He’d gone from his usual flirty behaviour to a cold and ruthless exterior covering him. He admitted that the look in the other’s eyes, as he’d looked out over the city around them, had even sent shivers down his own spine. He felt sorry for anyone who’d ever cross the cat during such conditions. 

With the help of an old white towel, most of the water was squeezed and rubbed out of his black locks before he looked into the mirror. It was strange, seeing his reflection without that streak of white that had been with him ever since the lazarus pit, ten years ago. The boy he’d been before that was gone. He ignored the thoughts and wandered out, across the small hall and into his bedroom where his tux was hanging on his closet door. 

As he got dressed he noticed how well it actually fitted him, which was slightly alarming considering that he’d never told the cat his size. But all the same, when he looked into the mirror hanging opposite of him, he was wearing a smug look. _The cat really had been checking him out last time._

He grabbed his backpack, jacket and cap before he looked around the apartment to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. His eyes fell on the mask that was still resting on the kitchen counter. As he picked up the red disguise with black design over it, he noticed a message scribbled on the back of it. 

_Can’t really wear a biker helmet Tincan, but figured this might be second best._

Jason let out a small laughter. This cat was really growing on him, and he knew that was dangerous. But a small part of him really couldn’t care less. Stray might be the key to taking down the worst of Gotham, and he might even be more than that.

The tall man looked down at his watch and took a deep breath. 9:10. It was time to start moving. He spared a last glance at the neat writing then carefully placed it in his backpack. 

_Time to get to work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys the next chapter is so freakin’ long and I’m not even fully finished with it yet oh god
> 
> anyways, hope you liked this! let me know what you thought!


	7. Chapter 7

_(Saturday, night)_

10:10 PM. _Three more minutes till showtime._ Jason crouched behind a blue metal dumpster in the alleyway, the same alleyway Stary had pointed out to be the kitchen entrance earlier that night. As the starlets of Gotham were dropped off by their drivers at the main entrance, no one had noticed the shadow who passed by, slipping into the darkness of the small street. 

He’d plugged in the small earpiece shortly after having left his apartment, but hadn’t heard anything from the cat yet. The dramatic red mask was now resting inside the pocket of his tux, and the jacket and cap that he’d been wearing as a disguise on his way to the event, was now stuffed into his backpack, which he’d thrown down a storm drain. There was no room for evidence to be left behind. 

The guard on the other side of the narrow alley hadn’t noticed anything yet, seemingly unaware of Jason’s presence. But all the same, he seemed solid as a rock, not willing to move from his post. The door next to him was green and metallic with a flickering light hanging over it. It was the one that the worker was supposed to exit from, pretending to take out the trash. The same door that Jason was supposed to enter, posing as the waiter. In all honesty, he thought he could have all this over within a matter of minutes. He and his men could storm the place, grab some paintings and get out, without leaving time for the GCPD or bat to act. But Jason knew that Stray was testing him. Trying to see whether or not he’d listen to the cat’s plan, do it _his_ way. 

The Red Hood didn’t take orders from anyone. But this was a partnership he did _not_ want to screw up. So he’d play along. 

“Hood, you there?” A familiar voice screeched from the ear piece. Jason frowned slightly as the small device adjusted to the connection. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He answered and pressed up against the wall, just a precaution to make sure he wasn’t visible, not even a strand of hair standing out from his hiding place. 

“Are you in position?” The voice sounded slightly out of breath, he seemed to be running. 

“Yes, I’m just waiting for your _’acquaintance’_ to get here.” Jason answered and looked around as another precaution. He was exposed. No back up - well, other than Stray - and no helmet. 

A thud could be heard from the other end of the line and then a slight chuckle. “Yeah, he should be there any minute now.” 

Jason was just about to ask why the cat was running, but then the creak of a door echoed through the alley and when he peered out from his spot behind the dumpster he could see a man, roughly around his own build, walking with a black garbage bag in his hand. 

“He’s here.” Jason whispered and eyed the figure as he came closer, methodically untying his apron. Moving in a way that you’d never notice his change in appearance, until he was already disguised as someone else. _Has he done this before?_

“Good, guess I’ll see you inside then.” Jason leaned back with a sigh, he could basically hear the smirk on the other’s lips. But then the connection went silent and he knew that Stray was no longer tuned in. Wild guesses telling him that the cat was running around above him, getting in through the ventilation system as they’d planned. Perhaps he’d even seen Jason’s shadow crouched in the cramped corner between the dumpster and piece of wall. 

He peered out from his hiding place and was slightly taken aback as the man he’d seen walking towards him was now right beside him, and just walked past him. Jason flinched as the stranger threw a mask and apron towards him without saying a word. Before Jason could react, the waiter was pulling out a cap from his inner pocket and turned a sharp ninety degrees towards his right, disappearing down another street. 

_Nice job._ He had to admit. 

He hurried with tying the apron over his torso, adding the generic black mask to cover his face. The man had also dropped the trash bag next to him, so he picked that up and heaved it into the dumpster he’d used as a cover. Making sure to capture the guards attention by slamming the lid shut. At least he’d seen that Jason was the man who’d thrown out the trash. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be able to tell a difference between him and the other guy. It was a weird feeling, operating as the Hood but without his helmet to serve as protection. It’d been so long since he just wore a domino mask that he’d grown comfortable with the safe space his helmet provided. 

However, he didn’t have time to dwell in his thoughts for too long. He let go off the dumpster’s lid and started walking towards the metal door, mimicking the way that he’d seen the waiter move. Portraying someone else was an art in itself. You had to be careful with every little detail. If they limped, you limped. If they had a twitching tick, you had a twitching tick. If they so much as sneezed around lilies, then you _had_ to sneeze around lilies. It was all in the details. 

As he got closer, he felt his pulse rise more than it should. _If you so much as indicate any form of anxiety, you’re risking everything._ His mind - not so helpfully - reminded him. The guard shot him a glance and Jason had to resist the urge to swallow. They made eye contact for a split second before Jason swiftly looked away reaching for the door. 

“Excuse me, sir.” His whole body tensed up, readying itself. If it was needed, he had no problem with fighting this man. He couldn’t blow the whole mission before they even started. 

“Yes?” Jason turned towards the man and tightened his fist behind his back whilst keeping a calm and collected exterior. If he could only get the first punch, then he might be able to knock the guard out without causing any commotion... 

“You dropped this on your way out.” The guard reached out his hand and in his palm rested a small name tag. _Adam. He sure didn’t look like an Adam to me._. Jason loosened his fist and removed the pressure his nails were subjecting the palm of his hand to as he picked up the tag, with gentle fingers. 

“Thank you.” He said and gave the guard a nod before he opened the door and disappeared inside, letting out a deep breath. 

Once inside, he knew exactly where he was. The kitchen was connected to a long hallway that lead out to the main hall. All Jason had to do was get there without raising suspicion. Luckily, the kitchen staff seemed way too stressed to even bother sparing Jason so much as a glance. Instead, they ran around carrying different trays, calling out what needed to be refilled or screaming at one another when people were moving too slow. 

Jason took the opportunity when the souschef started yelling at a young boy for dropping a tray, to slip out the red and gold kitchen doors. Through the portholes of the doors he could see that no one had noticed his departure. Walking down the hallway he slowly started stripping from his kitchen ‘uniform’, throwing it into next bin he passed. He stopped right around the corner of the great hall and put on the red mask, glancing down at the words scribbled on it one last time. Once he was done, he took a deep breath and stepped out. His fingers snatched a glass of champagne from a tray that was being carried around and he let his free hand rest carelessly in his pocket. Bruce wasn’t the only one who could play billionaire playboy if he wanted to. 

The crowd surrounding him was the highest of Gotham’s upper class. Men and women wearing clothes made out of enough money to feed the whole city. And that was without the jewelry. The men wore expensive watches, some even wore rings and perhaps a silver chain around their neck. But they were thin and solely out of silver. Anything else would be inappropriate, gang related. Low-life related. 

The women were draped in luxurious gowns and dresses, bedazzling their necks and hands with jewels. Jason was pretty sure that he saw someone walking around slightly hunched over from the weight of them. He couldn’t imagine their heels were making it much easier to move around either.

“Stray, you there?” Jason asked as he looked around as casually as possible and took a sip of the drink in his hand. The crowd was big, making it hard to single out anyone. People were moving in and out of the grand hall, but most didn’t even seem interested in going to look at the art. The majority seemed stuck drinking champagne and chatting with their friends. Which honestly was the main reason that people showed up. _God, the gossip that goes around these places._ Jason remembered from his childhood, all the twisted and corrupted stories that were told. 

_“I’m here.”_ A purring voice came through the earpiece, making Jason back up towards the wall, trying to find out where it came from.

“Where?” He asked and attempted to single out all the men with dark hair in the crowd, which was basically impossible because they were the majority. 

_“Wouldn’t it be more fun to let you find me?”_ Jason pursed his lips, resisting the urge to smile. It wasn’t the time to flirt, _it never seemed to be, really._ But a part of his brain told him that he might never get this kind of opportunity again. 

“Madame de misue.” A man was now standing on top of the stage, pulling everybody's eyes towards him. Behind him was a small orchestra, but not directly behind him. Because at the center of the stage stood the sculpture that’d be revealed at midnight. For the moment it was covered by a heavy white fabric that _really_ didn’t leave much up to imagination. The whole crowd turned to face him and they all seemed eager to hear what he had to tell them. 

“It is now time, for the dancing to commence.” The crowd started clapping and cheer with excitement at this. The man on the stage looked awfully content with the reaction he was given as he walked off. Jason naturally copied the crowds movement and slowly clapped as he looked around, his mind looking for someone else. 

“Hello there.” A sultry voice appeared next to him pulling his searching eyes away from the crowd. He looked to his right and found a woman standing there, bearing a devious smile resembling Stray’s. 

“Care for a dance?” She raised a thin, fair hand, raking through her her blonde curls, forcing them out of her face, and then let it fall down to her side again. Her body was wrapped in a slim, red gown. Designed with a slit on the side that was rising all the way up to her left thigh. In all honesty, she looked like something out of a crime drama that you’d watch lazily at 1 AM. A seductive woman that you’d meet at some extravagant party. You’d end up spending the night with her to later find out she stole you car and wallet. 

“Oh-I don’t know.” Jason looked around with scavenging eyes as the music started and the guest began to pair up to move gracefully across the floor. Just like the stars they were eager to think of themself as.

“Waiting for someone?” The stranger leaned into her own hand that was now resting on her hip. 

_No, but I’m going to rob this place in about an hour, so I kinda need to find my accomplice._

He turned back to her - excuses forming inside his head - and was just about to say something when his trail of thoughts were interrupted. Words came to a halt at the back of his throat.

 _“Scared that you’ll fall over your feet?”_ Stray’s voice sniggered as he popped into Jason’s head. He was close and seemingly enjoying listening to Jason’s conversation with the woman. If Jason wasn’t mistaken, he was most likely watching the scene as well. Whilst Jason was left to run around blindly. Like a cat playing with an awfully disabled mouse. 

“You know what,” Jason gave the woman a flirtatious smile. Determination growing steadily inside him. “,let’s.” And she gladly accepted the hand that was offered to her. 

His left hand was gently intertwined together with the woman’s as they entered the pit of movement. The other one, he rested on her hip as they, like everyone else, started moving. Her lipstick was red, a shade that reminded Jason of blood. A thick, glutinous liquid. Deadly. Her hair was in gracious waves and curls, that dirty blonde shade that every girl seemed to long for but few had naturally. Her figure was slim, but she was still curvy in all the right places. Really, everything about her seemed perfect, the kind of woman who could get whatever she wanted. _Whoever_ she wanted. But Jason’s eyes barely grazed her beauty as they moved over the marble floors of the grand hall. He glanced back at her to make sure she wouldn’t lose interest, but otherwise his eyes were roaming the room, in search for someone else. 

_”Having trouble staying focused?”_

“So,” Jason looked back to the shorter figure whose breath was gracing his exposed throat. “,what’s your name?” He raised an eyebrow, seemingly cool and composed. But his insides were screaming at him to keep looking. 

The woman smirked and looked over Jason as if he was some kind of prised pony. Her eyes gleaming close to victoriously in the light cast by the chandeliers above. “Irene.” She answered graciously. “And you are?” Her sentence was dragged out with a look of excitement and almost a craving coating her irises. 

“Adam.” He replied with a pleasant smile, and heard a snorting sound from the com as he did. He was listening to everything, apparently enjoying it.

“You don’t look like an Adam.” The woman cocked her head and gave Jason a playful glare as if Jason was really interesting toy. 

“And you don’t look like an Irene.” He counter struck and mimicked her playful glare before raising his eyes again to gaze out over the dance floor. She was good at flirting, he gave her that at least. But he was busy, so it didn’t matter. 

_Too tall, too much boob, too blonde, too drunk, too… Wait._

“Touche.” Irene mused, oblivious to the fact that Jason wasn’t paying attention anymore. There, from across the floor, was a slightly shorter figure. A man drinking champagne as he slowly paced around the room, one foot slowly passing the other. He was looking at his watch, but as soon as his eyes lifted again, he looked straight into Jason’s eyes. 

_Found you._

The man’s eyes seemed to widen at the contact, but then his face turned into an impressed low smile and he continued his pacing. Jason held onto the other’s gaze as long as he could before he had to turn around, forced by the momentum of the dance. 

_Shit, that had to be him._ Jason’s brain tried to steady itself. The other was way more petite than himself, but in no way did that remove his masculinity or lessen his chances of looking sexy. His slim figure was well fitted into the black tux, a silver watch around his left wrist and - if Jason wasn’t mistaken - his mask was a _very_ deep shade of purple. Black to the naked eye, until the light hit it from a specific angle. All of the sudden his mind started hoping that he looked good himself, that Stray was considering his appearance just as much as he was. 

The floor changed direction once again, and they were now face to face. A wave of curroge - and perhaps stupidity - washed over him, and any last trace of his own insecurities were washed away by the waves of those ocean eyes. Even from across the floor they were like a force of nature, deep inside the ocean. On the surface there were tsunami-like waves causing a ruckus, drowning those who dared to step close. But deep down, the ocean laid quiet. Resting, breathing heavily and steadily. Calming those who were allowed entrance. “Your eyes are really beautiful.” Jason said moving to the gentle melody, but he wasn’t looking at the woman. His eyes were pinning the man across the room, unsure of how he’d ever ended up here. 

“Thank you.” Irene purred as they moved together with the crowd. Spinning slowly, one foot in front of the other, avoiding the other couples. The music seeming to have unwritten rules regarding how you were supposed to maneuver, rules that came naturally to all who indulge in the activity. 

He saw how the figure across the room snickered and took another sip of his drink, glancing to the side. His hair wasn't as uncontrollable as it usually was. Now it was slicked back, almost blending together with the black-purple mask he was wearing. But no matter if he wore a dramatic masquerade mask or goggles, those eyes. They shone through it.

“You’re not too bad looking yourself.” Irene stroke her hand over Jason’s chest and he spared her a glance. “Bet you look pretty great under that tux.” She sneered and squeezed his shoulder with her well-kempt nails and thin fingers. Normally, this kind of woman would work as a drug for Jason. She was confident and knew what she wanted, unafraid of showing it. But tonight, Jason had no interest in her whatsoever. The sole reason he kept dancing with her was because of the reaction it pulled out of Stray. It was marvelous. As always, it wasn’t a lot. But when he heard her seductive words and caught her hand’s movement, he hesitated in moving forward, his glass got stuck at his lips. And _finally_ , Jason was sure there was an interest inside the man. One similar to the one resting inside Jason.

He gave the woman a smirk - devious enough to sink the titanic - before his eyes left her, grabbing onto the gaze of another. “Maybe I should let you find out sometime.” He continued, widening his grin somewhat. The cat across the room cocked his head and crossed his arms with a small smile, he seemed intrigued. Keen on hearing more, and Jason always played to win.

“Well, what sane girl would say no to that?” Irene whispered with that playful look that could swoon anyone. But not Jason. His eyes were elsewhere. _He_ was elsewhere. 

“So, is there anything else you like?” Her voice was distant, muffled, but still there scratching the back of Jason’s mind. 

He thought through the memories of their - sadly not too many - encounters. Stray was looking at him with an amused smirk over his face. He looked more like a tiger than a cat at that moment.

“Your hair…” Jason’s right foot stepped back and he turned their dance around. Making sure to stay within reach of _his_ gaze. “It’s bold.” He snickered, shortly looking down at their moving feet, before returning his gaze again. “Shows off your eyes.” His voice was slightly rough now, but genuine all the same. The shorter man’s hand moved up to adjust his mask but Jason was pretty sure it had been an involuntary reflex to what he’d said. And _that_ only served as greater motivation. 

So he continued, “Your lips, they’re alluring, playful even.” He let his eyes wander down the fair skin, till they reached what his mind had been thinking of. Something that had been occupying his thoughts for too many nights. An agitating fact, something he’d refused to acknowledge till now. 

“Your whole atmosphere really. The way you walk into any situation like you own it.” He chuckled and let on a smile. “Which you do.” Stray’s expression showed nothing else but a slightly bored young man at an art gala, but his eyes were something else. The deep blue was drawing Jason in and it was enchanting. “First time I saw you, I thought you’d stolen my lungs.” He felt the same sensation right now, his lungs unable to draw deep breaths. Choking on themself, the air not quite reaching all the way down. “And I don’t think I’d be mad if you did.” He confessed as the thought occurred to him. 

He wasn’t even paying attention to the dance anymore. He was watching intently as the man across from them stroke away some of the hair that had fallen down over his face, the figure wasn’t moving around anymore. He was standing right there, just on the other side of the floor. And Jason was the only one who had his attention, and he was the only one with Jason’s. The song ended and Jason didn’t even hear the woman anymore. 

“Sorry, I have to go.” He mumbled before starting to move through the swamp of people. The blue eyes from across the room serving as a compass, guiding him through it. Someone bumped into him with a bit more force than he’d been prepared for, breaking the hypnotic eye contact. 

And when he looked up again, he was gone. _Fuck_

\---

Tim found himself disappearing into the crowd as the eye contact broke. He’d been so enticed by the man in front of him that he almost let his guard down. Never before in his career as Stray had Tim encountered someone like this. Someone like the Hood. It was dangerous and this cat couldn’t afford it. He’d lost _too_ many lives the last time. 

The world was frail… And Tim couldn’t change that. But he could stay away from it. _Keep your distance. That way, the world won’t catch you. And you will always land on your feet._

“More champagne, sir?” Tim turned around to see an elderly man offering another tall glass of the golden beverage. The voice breaking through his beating heart, drumming against his eardrums. Without even noticing it, he’d started breathing heavily. An anxious, yet exciting, feeling rising within. The waiter looked a lot like Bruce Wayne’s butler, Alfred Pennyworth. You could always find him next to Bruce. Which reminded him: he wasn’t sure if Bruce was actually here. It was always a guessing game when it came to him. He had invitations to everything, hell, he held the key to this whole city. But you never knew if he’d show up or spend the night dressed up as a bat. 

“Thank you.” Tim murmured as he placed his own empty glass on top of the tray and grabbed a new one. The waiter continued his route through the crowd, offering champagne to various guests and Tim used it as an excuse to follow him with his eyes, attempting to find the billionaire playboy. 

Bruce wasn’t hard to find if he was actually attending, which most likely meant that he either wasn’t here or wasn’t here, _yet._ Whenever the man went out to social gatherings, he always had some woman with him and half of the time he acted like a drunken idiot, upholding his image. Tim had seen him on several occasions, he’d even said hi to him once. But Bruce never knew who the boy was. No one knew of Stray’s identity, not even the big man himself. 

Once, Barbara Gordon had been closed to cracking through his servers. But he’d caught her just in time and infected her computer with a virus that filled her screen with Rickrolling memes, popping up every second so she could never acces anything else. Since then, he’d never heard from her.

And as if the world had been tuning in on his thoughts, that exact butler that Tim had been thinking of was now walking in through the entrance. Luckily there was an empty space next to him, not occupied by a ‘drunk’ Bruce Wayne. If that little piece of luck continued, then there’d be no problem. Hopefully Alfred was just here in Bruce’s place to deliver some kind of snobby message to the committee arranging all of this. Perhaps some excuse to why he wasn’t there, a thank you for their hard work. Most likely some kind of money contribution to this whole spectacle as well. Because of course they were in need of _more_ money. 

But with this new guest came trouble and consequences. Now it was of utter importance that they’d make a quiet exit, _sadly_. Bruce might not be there, but if Alfred were, then it wouldn’t take the bat long to arrive if anything went down.

Someone else got up on stage and started tapping their glass ferociously with a table knife, trying to gain the audience’s attention. Stray didn’t bother turning his head towards the stage, he’d seen that man earlier in the evening. He had the silhouette of a ring box inside his tux. Most likely planning on pulling some girl up on stage to then declare his love and propose. So instead of turning around like everyone else in the crowd, Tim started moving behind the scenes, purposely avoiding the side of the hall where he’d seen Pennyworth. Not that he’d recognize Tim or Stray, but he was still uncomfortable around the man. He moved across the floor, staying near the edges of the room. Much like he’d anticipated, a woman was pulled up on stage with a confused and excited expression, whispering something to the friends she left behind who looked equally as excited. But they were clearly displaying that they knew _exactly_ what was going to happen. 

He peered around the room and found what he’d been looking for. That girl he’d seen earlier. He’d passed her when he’d entered the hall in the beginning of the evening. 

“Cassandra Davis,” The voice was slightly unsteady, obviously trying to contain his fragile masculinity by not crying. “,will you make me the luckiest man on earth…” _Here it comes..._

“And…” _And..._

“Mary me?” _Now._

Tim ‘stumbled’ and bumped into the girl in front of him. She was about his own age, wore a pretty strapless pink dress and had her hair braided and styled to perfection. His hand grasped for support and found it by placing his hand over her bare shoulder. He looked up with ‘surprised’ eyes as the crowd started cheering, for the woman on stage had said yes. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He straightened up as he buried his own eyes into hers, but he didn’t remove his hand right away. “Wow… You’re beautiful, wait-no, I didn’t mean to say that out loud, god I’m so sorry.” He stuttered, looking around ‘embarrassed’.

The girls seemed flustered and luckily, she found him attractive enough to blush as she smiled gently. Seemingly equally embarrassed, she looked down at her fumbling hands. “Oh n-no, don’t worry about it.” 

Tim removed his hand from the girls shoulder and smiled in that way that Selina had thought him. “Well, I hope you have a lovely night.” He bowed and her face grew into a deeper, darker shade of scarlet. But before she had the chance to say anything else, he was already disappearing into the crowd. It had all happened in mere seconds. He’d left the girl with a charming smile, carrying an undertone of a smirk, that he knew left people with wild thoughts. And he didn’t resurface until he was at the other end of the room again, where he leaned against the wall with a satisfied smirk. His fingers tapped gently against the glass in his hand as he took a sip of the stars. 

_These people were too easy._

“You play dirty. Misleading young girls. Tsk, tsk.” Tim almost choked on the champagne and looked to his right where a figure he hadn’t even noticed was leaning beside him. _Shit,_ it was the Hood. Well, Tim had to give him props for going undetected like that. 

“Please,” Tim snorted. “Are you trying to tell me that those little compliments back there were _actually_ meant for Irene, _Adam_?” Tim smiled slightly mockingly as he looked out over the crowd, continuing his triumphant drinking. 

“I think we both know who I was talking to.” The Hood was way more bold up close, he wasn’t the same stiff figure hiding behind a helmet that Tim had been plotting with earlier that night. Perhaps he’d been indulging in an extra glass of champagne. “But I didn’t steal her jewelry.” The other tilted his head, giving Tim a playfully accusing smirk. _God he was attractive._

Tim chuckled in response and looked down at the necklace he’d swiped from the girl, without her even noticing a thing. It had a thin chain that reached down to one's chest and at the end of it was an uncut sapphire. It was rare to see any of the upper class folks wear jewelry that didn’t make a blind man frown, so from the moment that he’d seen it earlier that evening, he knew he’d wanted it. And now, it was securely resting in his pocket, and the girl wouldn’t notice a thing until she got home. He’d made sure that she would have other thoughts occupying her till then. 

“What can I say, I have a condition.” He looked back up and sipped his drink. 

The Hood was inches away from him, he could almost feel the heat radiating off of the other’s tall and strong body. The night was certainly becoming more and more interesting.

“Want to dance?” Tim let the words fly out of him without even thinking first, which he was slightly appreciative of, since otherwise he was pretty sure his brain would’ve never let them slip.

“How could anyone say no to that.” The Hood answered cheekily and took Tim’s glass out of his hand, placing both his own and Tim’s on a small decorative table standing next to them. 

He was wearing a devious smile, leading Tim out onto the dance floor where the music had started up again. The finest people of Gotham surrounding them, unaware that the cat and devil was dancing among them. 

As the other placed his hand on Tim’s hip, he felt a shiver crawl it’s way over his skin, originating where the Hood’s hand was resting. He placed his own hand on the taller one’s shoulder and let their feet move to the flowing melody of the music. The Hood’s eyes were shining through his mask, pinning Tim. He felt captured, unable to break free. In any other case he’d pannick and try to run or fight it, fight whatever was causing these chains. But now - if anything - he was moving closer. 

“You know, it’d be nice to have a name, other than Stray, that I could call you.” Hood’s eyes were mesmerizing, his voice low but smooth as it made its way to Tim. 

“Yeah, well it would be nice to call you something other than Tincan, but wouldn’t that ruin the mystery?” Tim cocked his head slightly and hinted a grin, yet didn’t break into it. He earned a slight chuckle from the other who looked out over the dance floor, slowly shaking his head. 

“You weren’t what I expected.” He sounded as if he was thinking about something. _Was he thinking of Stray?_

“I do love to impress…” Tim answered and took a step towards their right, even though the other was leading the dance. “...But I could say the same. You’ve peaked my interest, not many do these days.” As he looked out over the crowd, the faces of those around them melted together. All the same. All boring. But when he looked back at the man in front of him, he was clear as day. He felt a hand over his cheek and flinched slightly. _Keep your cool Tim._

“I want to know who’s under the mask…” Tim looked up at the man in front of him. He was wearing the mask that Tim had packed for him. His hair was short and styled to lay back, but a piece of it was falling down over his forehead, as if it was used to being separated from the rest. His rough edges, strong structure, kind eyes. They were looking at Stray in a way he’d never seen before. He wanted nothing else but to see who was beneath it all… But, he couldn’t. 

“Many do.” Stray looked away, sighing internally. Nothing could ever actually happen between them. The song ended and he felt the warm, strong hand disappear. 

_Don’t..._ He caught himself thinking. 

“It’s almost time.” He said instead. 

\---

“Ladies and gentlemen.” A raspy voice croaked out over the room, being the third one to do so this evening. They sure liked to announce things at events like these. Jason was standing next to Stray in the center of the room, surrounded by people. Not really ideal. But they’d gotten there without even noticing it and now they just had to make the best out of it. 

“It is time, in a few minutes we will unveil the grand piece of the evening.” Jason rolled his eyes. Always so dramatic, always had to put on such a show.

“We should move…” He heard Stray whisper from beside him and Jason replied with a discrete nod. They both started moving against the thin stream of people who were re-entering the hall from the art hallways. Both of the men made sure to stay on separate sides of the crowd and on the edge of it all, to minimise the risk of rising suspicion. 

“One minute…” The soft voice rang through Jason’s head from the com. He looked behind them and to his satisfaction, no one seemed to notice or care about their departure from the main group. 

He had noticed the familiar face enter the hall earlier, and he’d be lying to say his chest hadn’t stung from the sight of the old man. He looked so much older, forcing the realization that he was growing old into Jason’s head. Alfred had always been so kind to him, and he’d love to just walk up and hug the butler. But, that wasn’t a possibility. And he’d prepared for this moment for quite some time now. Knowing that he’d bump into the people of his past, he’d learnt to deal with the fact that he could never have the same relationship with them again. So he’d let the man drift out of his head, continuing on with his mission. Only slightly more on edge regarding the bat. 

A few drifters were left behind but soon enough all had left the art hallways to gather elsewhere. He met up with Stray at the north hallway, glancing back every now and then to make sure no one followed. The few guards who were stationed in the ball hall were all occupied with keeping their eyes out for pocket thieves, not even thinking to keep an eye on the hallways. So the duo entered the maze of corridors and kept their distance to the guard who was walking ahead of them, following in silence. 

Finally they reached the hallway where their desired target was held. Stray peeked around the corner, and when the guard had turned to walk down another passage, he pressed a small button on his watch that Jason hadn’t noticed before.

“We got five minutes till the next guard will get here.” The cat stated before slipping out from their hidden corner and into a room. Jason followed along like a lost puppy, no worse, _a sidekick._

The room they entered was dimly lit but each art piece had an individual light that shone down on them, casting a light that would reveal their content. They were all dressed in golden frames with neat little silver tags under them, telling their names and creator. The room was filled with paintings by Matisse, meaning they might as well be standing in a sea of gold. If they got away with this, Jason would be seriously impressed but also slightly worried to what the cat was actually capable of. After all, this had been done by two people, one computer and some fortunate connections and contacts. What would he be able to do if he had access to resources like the Hood’s?

Out of nowhere, Stray pulled out something that looked like a pipe. When Jason looked closer he saw that it was a _sort of_ pipe, but it was collapsible and opened up at the top. It also wasn’t made out of metal.

“Come on red, we don’t have all day.” Stray winked and moved up to one of the paintings. 

“Isn’t that going to set off some alarm?” Jason asked and looked over his shoulder out of habit. 

“Already took care... of that.” Stray breathed out as he detached the frame of a painting from its place on the wall. He made a swift movement with his wrist and the frame cracked. Jason couldn’t help but gawk at the other, there really were no limits, he just kept impressing Jason. 

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do?” He asked and earned a playful smile from the other. 

“Hold this, will you?” Stray held out the broken frame to Jason and forced the man’s eyes to tear themself from the cat. 

He accepted the painting and carefully removed it from its cage. They continued so: Stray taking the paintings off of the walls and cracking the frame before letting Jason remove them from it. After having worked in silence - except for some cracking noises and heavy breathing out of concentration - for around three minutes, they’d gathered five paintings, more than enough to live a couple of lifetimes in well comfort. 

Jason placed them all carefully over each other and then rolled them up, slipping the roll of paintings into the pipe that Stray had brought. There was a strap attached to it and jason flug it over his shoulder. _Now for the fun part, exiting the building without getting half the GSPD on their asses._

“So what was the plan again?” Jason asked Stray as the other checked his watch. “The escape plan?”

“Hopefully we’ll slip out the backdoor without causing commotion. I was planning on walking out of here with you as my hostage. But let's say that _that_ plan won’t work anymore.” Stray raked his fingers through his hair that was starting to loosen up from its former slick placement against his head. “The GCPD would’ve cared too much about ‘civilians’ to act out on us if we’d gone with that plan.” 

_Won’t work anymore? Was it possible… No, he couldn’t. Could he?_ Jason mind started racing. Did Stray know about Bruce? If his plan had been to walk out of here with Jason has his hostage, had it been suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a specific butler? But how? How in the world could this one kid possibly know so much? He couldn’t possibly know about the identity of Batman. _No that was impossible._ He knew very well that it wasn't impossible. If anything, it was the most believable thing about this entire night. But he shunted the thoughts, all the way to the back of his head. _Later._

“You never said there was a backdoor.” Jason raised an eyebrow, ignoring his previous thoughts. Of course he knew of the backdoor, he’d used it many times during boring galas - similar to this - when he was a kid. But he was still wondering why the cat never told him of it. 

“Well, had to make sure you wouldn’t ditch me.” The other smirked and fixed the cuffs of his suit before peering out from the room. “Let’s go.” He started moving without waiting for confirmation that Jason would come. _Damn this cat._ Jason took a deep breath, pursing his lips and followed the other as he was expected to. Wasn’t Jason the one playing one of the most powerful crime lords of Gotham? Now he was trailing after a cat without the slightest hesitation. _Really, it was embarrassing._

Stray’s figure was slim, the man didn’t need a skin tight suit for you to see that. He actually had a surprisingly small build. _Must make it easy to slip in and out of places like a shadow in the night,_ Jason thought as he observed the back of Stray. He felt the ghost of the other’s skin lingering over his own fingertips as they took right and walked down the hallway. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him earlier. Something had just told him that he _had_ to touch the other. It was weird, there’d been like an itch forcing him to move closer, forcing him to want _more._ The kind of itch he hadn’t experienced in so long. The Red Hood didn’t have time for relationships and Jason Todd didn't even exist anymore. Peter wasn’t much to bargain with, he couldn’t offer any form of depth without risking things that Jason just couldn’t afford to risk. So he’d stayed away from both women and men. 

That’s right, he was bisexuall. Liked to think of himself as an icon of sort. _Bicon,_ as he phrased it.

But that still didn’t explain the sudden need to touch the other that had occurred earlier, after having suppressed it for so long.

“Shit.” Jason almost walked into the other who came to halt at the next corner. He looked down to see a twisted expression over Stray’s face. Jason peered around the corner but pulled back his head as fast as he understood why Stray had stopped. There was a guard walking towards them, but why? He wasn’t supposed to come this way? 

“They must have an unofficial rotating schedule.” Stray whispered as if he’d read Jason’s mind, and looked back behind them in an attempt to find a way out. But they couldn’t go back, if they did, they’d risk being caught at the scene of the crime. Littered by the empty carcasses of picture frames. A realisation that seemed to hit Stray right as it had Jason. The cat gave a deep sigh, obviously annoyed at how this had twisted against their favour. 

“We should be able to take him out without too much effort.” Stray looked down at his watch and cursed under his breath. “Shit, the unveiling is almost finished.” 

Jason observed as the other’s body grew tense. Looking almost comically much like a cat arching its back, ready to claw someone’s eyes out as the footsteps grew louder, closing in on their position around the corner. 

Maybe it was Jason’s idea of strategy or a panicked caused action. Or maybe it had just been an opportunity to let his weaker side take control. But as the footsteps came closer, danger inches away from them both. Instead of getting into his normal fighting stance, he did the opposite. The pipe of stolen masterpieces were dropped from his shoulder and his hand caught it, pressing it against Stray’s back; as he pressed Stray’s back against the wall next to them. Instead of tensing up and preparing his body for physical danger, he did the opposite. Let his muscles relax, almost melt. The cat was caught off guard and didn’t have time to realize what was happening until Jason crashed their lips together. They collided into what could only be described as pure desire. 

Jason’s free hand moved up Stray’s neck, digging his fingers into the jet black locks of hair. The other seemed taken aback at first, hesitant in what to do, to think. But it wasn’t long till his eyes fluttered shut as well, fisting the fabric of Jason’s tux, holding on to the other as if they were hanging off the edge of the world. He melted into the kiss and let out a breath. Stray’s lips were sweet, tasted of the champagne they’d had earlier but also hinted on a bitterness. His tongue wasn’t rough like a real cat’s, it was smooth and mixing well with Jason’s as the shorter man let out a hum of pleasure - opening his mouth invitingly - to Jason’s delight. Stray ran his tongue over Jason’s lips in a hungry manner and Jason had never felt weaker. 

The footsteps that were now right next to them seemed to hesitate as they came to a halt, thinking of whether they should say something or not. But then they continued, if anything now sounding slightly quicker than earlier. 

Stray was the one to break the hypnotic state first, by turning his head to look for the guard. Jason’s head followed his movement and peered down the hallway just in time to see a pair of feet disappearing around a corner. 

“Interesting tactic you got there.” Jason looked down at the man he was still pinning against the wall and stepped back once he realised it. His breathing felt shallow, almost afraid to take any real mind sweeping breaths. 

He looked down at the roll he’d been clutching behind Stray’s back and saw his knuckles white around it. He forced himself to relax his grip, slowly uncurling his fingers. “Well, it worked didn’t it?” Jason quirked an eyebrow, regaining his breath that had gotten lost somewhere in the kiss. Stray’s lips were slightly more raw and flushed than he’d remembered them earlier, something Jason felt almost rudely proud over.

Stray rolled his eyes, but Jason swore he saw a tinted redness forming over his high cheekbones before turning around to peer around the corner once again. Not much time was left to figure out whether Jason should say something else, they were still in the middle of a heist, he reminded his hormonal brain. _God it sucked to be in your twenties._ Stray promptly grabbed Jason’s free hand and started running down the hallway, forcing the other into a run as well. He followed the cat and threw the pipe back onto his shoulder with what almost felt like a suppressed laughter filling his lungs. There was a slight echo filling the halls from their dress shoes hitting the marble floor. Some might even say they were acting careless, like drunken teenagers sneaking around. But neither of them seemed to bother anymore. 

They had reached the back door of the building, and with a devious, god forsaken smile - that made Jason want to pull the other one into another deep passionate kiss - Stray shoved the door open and hauled both of them out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter got really long haha  
> I hope you enjoyed it though!  
> Let me know what you thought!!  
> ( was supposed to post this yesterday but i got too tired opsss, but i’m gonna try and make weekly updates around every sunday )


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why but this chapter was inspired by Germany’s and Ireland’s songs for Eurovision (if you’re not european or australian or know what it is: it’s a singing competition)  
> So feel free to give those songs a listen! I’ll even drop a link for you.  
> (Don’t think too much of the lyrics tho)  
>  Song: You let me walk alone   
>  Song: Together   
> 

_(Sunday, a week later, night)_

“No, I’m fine…. Selina no, I’ve told you like ten times already, you _don’t_ have to come home!” Tim was starting to feel like he’d have to spell out the letters for the woman to hear him. He’d never seen her like this. She was calling daily to check in on him and was contemplating leaving work early to go home. It was all of course because of the latest headlines that were hitting the streets everywhere. 

_”Matisse paintings gone missing from the annual Gotham Art Exhibition”_

The articles varied slightly by the lack of proof and gaping holes of information, but the base line seemed to be that two masked and unknown men had stolen the paintings whilst the G.A.E was still ongoing, without anyone noticing a thing. No one had actually seen them - except for one security guard, and he knew nothing - but it hadn’t taken Selina long to figure out that Tim had been one of the involved parties. And if Tim had been one part of the duo, then his new ‘partner’ had to be someone new, someone who recently entered the boy’s life. Tim didn’t partner up with anyone except Selina. So who could have possibly just entered the cat’s life, ready to do something so insane as to robb the pettiest and richest of Gotham? Well the answered did seem quite obvious.

“I know, but you were out of town and I...I just _really_ wanted…” Tim dragged out the ‘really’ with a pleading look, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. 

He was walking down the dark streets of Gotham, seemingly deserted as it usually was by now. He’d passed a few pedestrians and a handful of cars had passed him, but otherwise it was calm. People knew better than to be out this late, in this part of town. It was reserved working hours for the mobs and gangs operating the area. 

“Hey, can’t we do it next year then? Bet it’ll be double the security, double the fun.” He sounded like an adult bribing a child with some cheap, radioactive-looking candy. There was a sting of guilt, jabbing at his chest as his sneakers clapped against the concrete below his feet. His headphones were plugged in which gave his hands the opportunity to pick at each other, a bad habit that he didn’t usually allow himself to indulge in, exception was when he was nervous over Selina. 

_They_ had made a promise to go for the G.A.E together - the two of them, not some stranger in a biker helmet - several years back when Stray had just started his training. It had been a partnering goal for the two of them. But something always seemed to get in the way, and this year, Tim hadn’t been able to resist it. So much crap had happened that he needed some fun, deserved some fun. And it had been fun. _Really_ fun.

“No…no...yes…” Answering the woman's questions, he continued down the dimly lit street. The florescent glow of the street lights weren’t doing much other than flickering thretingly above him. And while he was stuck under them, Selina was going on and on from her hotel suite in New York - most likely sitting in a bubble bath and looking out over her grand view - suppressing any thoughts regarding the depressing streets of Gotham. 

“Selina!” He interrupted her, sounding slightly more agitated than he’d intended for. 

With a calming breath he shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and continued walking, from where he’d abruptly stopped at Selina bombardment of questions. “You have to trust me on this.” He said in a more gentle tone, one forcing a too vivid image of those emerald eyes in front of him. He wished she was there. If she’d been in Gotham then they could’ve talked face to face. She could’ve stroked her finger through his hair at the end of it all, whispered reassuringly in that motherly voice that she only revealed to him. He could have fallen asleep next to her, woken up to the sound of cans of cat food opening and fresh coffee already in the making. 

He had to admit, it became kind of lonely when she left. 

“He’s… different.” Was the only thing that came to Tim’s mind as they continued talking. The same word he’d used the first time she’d asked this question. “I don’t know, it’s hard to explain… What!? No!.... No, too much Selina, too much!.... I don’t want to hear about what you and Bruce get up to in your dysfunctional ‘work’ relationship!” Tim squeezed his eyes shut and tried to erase all the words he’d just been subjected to. Oh, god he felt sick to the core. 

“You know, mothers aren’t supposed to talk about those kind of things.” He said disapprovingly and shivered slightly from the cool air. “Well not that explicitly!... Selina I will hang up on you.” He threatened and turned a corner, revealing yet another empty street. The doors of the surrounding buildings were all shut and carefully locked, only a few windows hosted a dim light. Otherwise, it was dark. 

“Stop laughing!” He said, but he too felt the corner of his mouth tugg upwards. Her voice was like a pleasant reassurance to him. One he didn’t even know he needed.

After having spent many nights out as Stray, Tim had learnt to detect any threat that might come close in the dark, so his eyes immediately caught the movement across the street. He stopped and glared at where he’d seen a shadow. It kept moving and Tim felt how his muscles tensed up. 

_Meow…_

_Right._ Tim relaxed, it was just a cat. The black cat ran across the street in front of him, slowing down to acknowledge Tim’s presence, but then continued strutting towards a nearby trash can. The boy recognized it. He was pretty sure that _that_ cat had been at Selina’s apartment a couple of times for breakfast, but if he remembered correctly it had always been sort of rude. Stayed on its toes and arched its back if you came too close. He didn’t blame the creature though, if anything, those were the cats he related to the most. He never trusted those who were instantly friendly. Either they were observing you, waiting to dig their claws into your back. Or they were just foolish enough to not keep an eye out. 

“Yeah, no it was just a cat.” He shrugged and continued walking. “I told you he was different. I don’t know what else to say…” Tim reminded the woman and turned a corner. As he did, he could tell that _that_ had been a mistake. 

There were two cars at the end of the street, each on opposite sides of the lanes. Neither of the drivers or passengers were outside of the cars, but their windows were rolled down and _those_ were the kind of cars that only mob members drove. There was a sort of package passed through the cramped space between the vehicles. A bag. 

“Hang on a second...” He said and turned to walk down the other end of the street, hoping that neither inhabitants of the vehicles had spotted him. “No it’s fine-” There was a roaring of engines and the car that was facing Tim’s direction charged forwards. 

“Shit.” His face twisted into an expression of annoyance and slight worry as he too started moving faster. “Hey, Selina. I’m gonna have to call you back.” He didn’t wait to hear the woman’s response before hitting the ‘end call’ button and racing down the street, grabbing onto his messenger bag with one hand so it wouldn’t bump against him as he ran. 

His shoes were now clapping against the pavements as if there were standing ovations, his breath increasingly growing faster and more shallow. There was a gunshot and Tim ducked instinctively. Luckily whoever fired the gun had no sense of aim and hit the post box he passed a few second ago instead. But that still didn’t mean that a car wouldn’t catch up to him soon enough. The fact that he hadn’t seen much at all wasn’t impliable because he’d seen _enough._ That’s Gotham for you. People got killed for less every day.

His sneakers skidded against the ground as he decided to take a right turn a bit too late. Forcing him to slide to a halt, his hands hitting the pavement, scrambling to keep himself on his feet, before he could make his way back upright and continue on his with his quick pace. The car had luckily also not been ready for such a sharp turn and ended up missing the turning point. With this, Tim managed to gain some leverage. 

The windows that might have been lit a couple of minutes ago were now dark as night. No one was watching. If Tim died, no one would see.

But of course he wasn’t about to die. If he’d die from a crook, then it sure as hell wouldn’t be some disgusting mob drop-off that’d get the best of him. 

There was a second gunshot and this time he was pretty sure it hit right behind his back. Well, he couldn’t say it was looking too good, but he’d dealt with worse - been through worse. The car had backed up and was now following Tim’s lead, down the new street that looked almost identical to the last. 

_If these nutheads would’ve just been out of that car..._ Then he would’ve been able to take them down with ease. But without his gear; taking on a mob car was pretty cocky, even for him. 

_Come on convenient alleyway, come on…_ His chest was pumping up and down as he passed locked door after locked door. If he could just make it to a fire escape, then he’d be safe. 

_P-taff._

The sound of another bullet firing swooshed through the air and Tim knew that this one wasn’t going to hit some post box. He could almost see the air being pushed aside by the small lump of metal that could so easily just end everything. Maybe it was instinct, or just the knowledge that his luck had to run out sooner or later. No matter what it was, he knew, he knew that this one wasn’t missing. 

He fell forwards, scraping his skin over the harsh concrete streets. With the help of years of practice, he managed to get into a roll pretty fast instead of just continuously skidding over the rocks. His cheekbone was stinging as if he’d been slapped about a thousand times - having rasped against the ground - but it was _nothing_ compared to the searing pain that was now working its way across his leg. He was almost certain that the bullet hadn’t pierced him, but it had most definitely grazed him. And when he looked down, casting his slightly blurred vision over his black jeans, his theory was confirmed. There was a gash across the fabric covering his calf and it was growing even darker from the liquid that was now spilling out over it.

“Assholes.” Tim grunted and grimaced getting back up with shaky hands and the majority of his weight on his right side. Pain would have to wait, there were more important things to bother with right now. _Like getting out of this without a bullet in the head._

The first steps were torture as he engaged the muscles once again. It felt like flesh eating bugs were crawling over the wound, burning the skin. But during situations like these, there weren’t a lot that you could do other than go on. Once the adrenaline kicked in even more than before and the schock reaction took over, he felt the searing pain grow numb and he kept running. He _had_ to keep running. His vision was all but perfect. It was distorted around the edges, not that it really mattered. All he had to focus on was to not trip and to _keep moving forwards._

_It’s just chemicals,_ he thought to himself as he continued moving towards the alley he’d spotted down the street. No matter how dire the situation may be, it always helped thinking of it from a scientific point of view. Like ones and zeros. It was all just his body reacting, basically coding, telling him what to do and what not to do. And once you realized that, then you could do whatever the hell you wanted to. Just had to crack the code. 

With shallow, hurried breaths he burst into the scene of a darker alley, not even looking back - ignoring the continuous firing of bullets and the sound of a car hitting its breaks. He just kept running and running, till he knew he’d made it several blocks down the street. _Thank god for Gothams weird alleyways._

It was first then, when he’d came to a halt next to some dumpsters and thrown out boxes, that he realized his phone was buzzing. He wasn’t sure how long it’d been calling, if it was the first time or the twentieth. He wasn’t quite sure how long he’d been trying to regain his breath either. So with heavy breathing and coughing he picked up the phone to check. It wasn’t Selina as he’d been expecting. Instead it was the Hood. 

_Great timing._ Tim looked around for any sign of his attackers, but it was quiet. Well not quiet. Gotham, she was never quiet. There was life and sound all around if you bothered listening. Taking one final deep breath he swiped across the screen and he raised the device to his ear. 

“Tincan!” He said in an as gleeful voice that he could muster considering the circumstances. “Miss me already?” The absence of his previously deeper and larger consumption of oxygen was getting to him and his lungs were beating him up from the inside, telling him to continue the large intake instead of forced small ones. 

_”Something like that.”_ The voice across the line mused and Tim could here a clatter of something, plates perhaps. Tim liked the Hood’s voice without his helmet. It was nice, almost calming. Had a sort of husky undertone to everything that made him want to melt into the other, like during the G.A.E. There was another noise of what Tim assumed to be dishes across the line. He didn’t know why but the thought of the Hood cooking or doing anything as mundane as it, he found strangely hilarious. _”We need to meet and discuss Scarecrow.”_

Tim looked down with a suppressed whimper as his leg was starting to pulse painfully, his body starting to catch up, “Yeah, tonight’s not really ideal.” He answered and bit his lip, falling back onto the nearest wall for support. It was cold and rough against his hand that was propping him up. The sandpaper-like feeling of bricks scratching against the pads of his fingers. 

The clattering and clanking of whatever the Hood was doing suddenly grew into silence and Tim wondered what the scene across the line might look like. Was the Hood _really_ doing dishes? ‘Cause just the thought of it painted a smile across Tim’s reddened and sweaty face. 

_”Stray, are you okay?”_ The voice was less distant than it’d been in the beginning and was now carrying an undertone of something. _Was it worry?_

“As I said, not ideal.” He chuckled in a dry voice and slid down the wall with a strained smile as he looked around. He knew where he was, always did when it came to Gotham. There was a low light cast by the streetlights a couple of yards away and it was creating eerie shadows in the dark alley surrounding him. By the sound of it, something seemed to be set aside at Hood’s place. It was sort of funny. “Are you playing house, Hood?” He snickered, still picturing it. Maybe the schock was getting to him. His leg felt damp, the fabric seemed to stick to it now and his shoe was also considerably wetter. He wasn’t sure if it was blood or from the dirty water of the puddles he’d stumbled through during his escape. Most likely a mixture of both. 

_”What happened?”_ The voice was serious. Not in the business _‘gonna make you wanna crawl into a whole and die if you cross me’_ voice. It carried a gentle yet determined side to it. 

“Just some shady drop-off that I happened to walk in on. Really, they should consider getting a better security network for things like that. Isn’t it a bit _too_ old school to be out in the streets these days?” He joked and took a deep breath that didn’t quite reach all the way down into the depths of his lungs, it got stuck, hitched in his throat by a new wave of burning pain. “Ahh- no. I lost my headphones.” Tim whined, as if it actually mattered. 

_”Where are you?”_ The Hood sounded like he was moving again. This time, walking over wooden floors. 

“Come on Tincan, can’t we meet some other day. I’ve already started on the Scarecrow thing and I sent you the information the other day like you asked me to.” Tim continued with an equally, if not stronger, whine coating every word, almost like a child who didn’t want to do his homework. But it was true. Ever since the gala a week ago, he’d been working almost every night, trying to gain as much knowledge and information regarding the villain. And at the same time he’d kept the Hood updated over text and email. This was actually the first time he’d heard the man’s voice since the night of their hesit. 

They’d separated quickly after having exited the building. All of course to make sure they had the best chances of getting away undetected. A few minutes later there had been the roaring sounds of _many_ sirens heading towards the scene they’d left behind. Since then, they hadn’t seen each other. Although, Tim had found it hard to _not_ see the man. He kept intruding and popping up inside Tim’s mind. Each time ending with Tim violently shaking his head and reaching for a cup of coffee. The Hood was storing the paintings till their next encounter which probably would’ve been sooner if it hadn’t been for the fact that Tim was avoiding it. He _had_ been busy with school, that wasn’t just a lie he told himself to justify his distant behaviour. But it wasn’t exactly true that he hadn’t had _any_ time to see the other. 

But he needed to figure out what he was doing before meeting him. Because in all honesty. The cat had _no_ idea. 

Ever since that night he hadn’t been able to think of much else. The Hood’s both gentle and rough grasp of him. His soft eyes and warm hands as they’d danced like normal people. The determined arms and passionate lips capturing him as he’d been pressed up against a wall. It was still haunting his mind as he was sitting in a damp and cold alleyway. 

_I should call someone. Maybe Steph could help._ He could tell her he was mugged. Or the truth, since walking in on things like these weren’t really irregular. 

_”I’ll come help,”_ Tim’s dazed mind suddenly jerked up his drooping head and he looked around as if the man would already be there. _“,where are you?”_

“Hah, I don’t think so…” He rested his head against the wall behind him and felt his eyelids growing heavy, threatening him with their weight. 

_”Stray, where are you?”_ The voice grew into an even more determined and somewhat harsh tone, making Tim’s skin crawl. 

Tim glanced down onto his leg with his eyebrows magnetically pulling against one another, creating a frown. Well at least the Hood would know how to patch it up. He hoped. 

“East side, Hapihr Avenue, alleyway.” He sighed and hit his head against the brick wall behind him. This was probably the dumbest thing he’d done so far. 

_”Don’t go anywhere. I’m coming to get you.”_ And the line broke, instead turning into a low beeping as Tim was left to his own company. _Yeah, definitely the most idiotic and dumb shit he’d pulled so far._

But there was no turning back now. Even if he’d attempt to leave, he doubted it’d be hard for the Hood to find him as he wouldn’t make it very far. Why _tonight? Why_ did he have to walk in on a drop-off? Why did _the Hood_ have to help him? Why _was_ the Hood helping him? _Ouch, too many thoughts._

He looked around the alley and started picking out his piercings, throwing them into his messenger bag. He did the same to his flannel shirt, beanie and bracelets. He could only hope that the Hood wouldn’t go through his stuff. He was exposed sitting in the alley wearing a pair of black jeans, an equally black t-shirt and some red sneakers. His body was starting to shiver, but he wasn’t sure whether it was the cold or perhaps his body was responding to the damage. The hoodie he’d been wearing was just a generic black one so he allowed himself to get wrapped up in that once again. And the hood of it also offered al least some coverage for his identity. _This was truly shit_ , he figured as he played with the expensive necklace hanging over his chest. 

It felt like hours and seconds, all at the same time till a Hooded figure dropped down into the alley. Tim wasn’t looking up though, he kept his head down, covering it with his own hood. His eyes were practically slamming shut but he’d been determined to stay awake. _He couldn’t fall asleep. He couldn’t just lay his trust in the Hood. There was no way…_ But then he felt a pair of strong arms slip around him. One over his back, the other behind his knees. He would’ve winced at the pain but he was just _too_ tired. That same fatigue was now muffling a voice, creating incoherent murmurs in the distance. His head was dropped against a strong chest and the messenger bag’s strap was chafing against his shoulder as they were apparently moving. 

There was a new scent surrounding him. It was warm, comforting. Like a crackling fireplace during a chilly winter night. And all of the sudden, thoughts of staying strong and awake disappeared. Because all that was left behind was a darkness, and Tim plummeted into the depth of it. 

\---

Stray didn’t look like Stray, Jason thought to himself when he entered the damp alley. He looked like a kid who was hurt, forgotten by the world. Left to his own demise. His slim figure was leaning against the wall in an attempt at staying conscious and his face was covered by a black hood and that ruffled hair hanging down over his eyes. Shallow, raspy breaths were entering and exiting his parted lips. It wasn’t hard to find the damage, it was pretty clear thanks to the amount of blood that was forming a puddle below his left leg. 

“Stray...” Jason crouched down next to the other, looking over his body for any other sign of damage, intentionally avoiding his face out of respect. This wasn’t how you found out about someone’s identity, and if you did you were a real ass. Even Jason knew that. 

“Hey, Stray.” He attempted contact once again but he was pretty sure the other was well past present in his mind. However, to his relief, there was a slight hum at the bottom of the other’s throat. As if he was trying to say something but it was suffocated by the exhaustion wrapping around him. 

“You need to try and stay conscious.” Jason lifted the other with ease and started moving down the alley. His voice was determined but there was a worry in it that even he hadn’t anticipated. “Come on Stray, you need to at least try.” He motivated the figure but he soon felt the body go limp in his arms. “Shit.” He cursed and immediately hurried his steps.

As he made his way through the connecting alleyways, he entered the street where his bike was waiting for him, which had been a shot of faith at the universe. Anyone could have stolen it, but in his rush to get there he hadn’t even bothered to care. Stray had sounded fuzzy over the phone, not like his usual sharp self. That had been Jason’s first clue. He’d been putting away his dinner when he’d decided to call the other. At first he’d felt anxious regarding the shit he pulled during the gala-heist, but that anxiety had been swiftly replaced by another kind, upon hearing the familiar voice so… weak. 

He placed the other in front of him on the bike and held Stray close to his chest as he sped down the street. He could feel a faint breathing brushing against a small gap of skin that was left exposed between his chest piece and helmet. It only made him drive faster. 

Not long after, the two of them were marching into Jason’s current apartment, which was the same as last week. He hadn’t found the time to move to the next one yet and the one he was currently in was actually growing on him. 

But to say that they were both _walking_ in wasn’t really true. Jason was the one doing the walking while Stray laid unconscious in his arms. He carried the other as gently as he could and marched over to the couch where he placed the young man. The hood covering his face had been close to slipping off several times already, but Jason had adjusted it, pulled it down to cover the top half of Stray’s face. He’d caught glimpses of an abrasion across one of the cheeks but that was all. The wild hair was also helping with covering most of the identity markers. 

He ripped off his own leather jacket and laid it aside, together with his helmet. He knew that he was exposed. The streak of white hair was starting to shine through the hair dye residues. However, now it wasn’t the same bright shade of white as it once had been. It was dirtier, almost grey. But something told him that he wouldn’t have to worry about the other figure waking up and seeing him. 

He pushed away most of the items that were covering the coffee table with a simple swipe of his arm and then reached under the couch for a first aid kit. He’d spent many nights on that couch patching himself up, so in the end he’d started keeping a medical kit there to spare him the often painful journey to the kitchen or bathroom. 

The medkit didn’t really contain your average supplies. It contained the basics such as plasters, gauze, aspirins and such. But also appliances like a suture kit, some serious pain killers, medical scissors, scalpel and blades, antibiotic ointment, syringes, absorbent compress dressings, adhesive bandages and a shit load of other things that Jason barely dared to touch. 

He grabbed the medical scissors and began cutting the fabric around the wound; a bullet had grazed the side of his calf. Jason flew up to his feet and over to his kitchen cabinets. However, when he grabbed the giant bottle of rubbing alcohol he found it to be almost completely empty. He threw it aside with some incoherent cursing and started rummaging through cabinets. At last he had to settle on an unopened bottle of brandy - at least it’d be good for disinfecting - before grabbing a clean towel and heading back to the living room. 

He fell down next to the young man laying on the couch and removed the cap off of the bottle. “Sorry, this’ll hurt.” He said in advance and grabbed Stray’s leg to stabilize it.

About a second after the liquor hit the wound - that was stretching about four inches across the leg - Stray’s body jerked, letting out a strained scream. His leg was trying to get away from the searing pain and Jason could see how his jaw was tensing up, teeth smashed together in an attempt to not let out another howl of pain. 

He grimaced apologetically and tightened his grip around the other’s ankle. “Sorry…” He mumbled again and removed the bottle, watching as the other fell back down, face buried in hair and against the back of Jason’s couch. He was breathing heavily, taking raspy breaths against the fabric of the couch but it was slowing down, becoming more steady. Jason pressed the towel against the now clean wound in an attempt to stop the remaining bleeding, letting his eyes rest upon Stray’s rising and falling chest. In the poorly lit living area his mind began wandering. 

“How the shit did I end up here.” He sighed and tilted his head back, leaning back against the table and keeping a steady hand over the wound and towel. The roof above them was hosting small cracks that were creating patterns like constellations. The paint job was also starting to become flaky which only contributed to the many shapes and lines. 

“I had a friend like you once.” Jason said mindlessly as he traced the cracks with his eyes, breathing in deep to let out an equally deep sigh. He’d never intended for tonight to turn out this way, but now he was opening up and he wasn’t sure how to stop it. And Stray was out of it so what did it matter? 

“Always had some witty comeback, the only one who ever really got me shut up too.” He chuckled thinking back to his childhood. “You’d be surprised to how much I talked, the ruckus I caused. I was like a small hurricane at times.” He admitted, once again thinking of that chandelier he’d knocked to the ground. He wondered whether or not Stray would find that funny. 

“And you see, there was this _one_ boy, he could walk through the eye of the storm without so much as blinking. It was agitating at first, made me angry how little I affected him and how much he affected me.” He frowned. God, Jason had been angry at first. He’d avoid the kid, ignore him as if he wasn’t alive. But still he’d kept showing up. Which honestly had made it pretty hard to ignore him. 

Thinking back, he wondered if he’d been incorrect in labeling his friend as such a nerd. After all, he’d been at so many rooftops and places, where no normal kid dared to venture. Robin did, and he’d known that. Perhaps that was why he kept showing up at such random places. 

“But like most times I realized I was in the wrong. Turns out, he was just as ‘moved’ by me as I was of him. Yeah, I know it makes me cringe as well, don’t even start... But... He was just the first person to never show that…” _Words, right._ Jason was never the best with this. But he’d had plenty of practice thinking of this specific subject, so it didn’t take him too long. “Fear... That glimpse of considering whether they should run or not.” Jason let his head drop to wander the room instead.

It wasn’t as messy as one would anticipate, but it was empty. Not really a home. The only real personal items were some books laying spread out over the room. 

_Home…_ Felt like such a strange concept these days. He wasn’t even sure he had one. 

“The way you talk makes it sound like he’s dead.” The figure on the couch whispered in a dry and raspy voice. Jason’s head snapped back to it, feeling how his whole body tensed up, growing warm of embarrassment, having thought Stray was unconscious. He suddenly became painfully aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing his helmet, or really anything that could cover him. He’d been in too much of a hurry to apply his domino mask. All he’d bothered with was his under armour, jacket, pants and a pair of boots. And his helmet of course, that he was now eyeing, considering whether he should grab it or not.

“I won’t look, calm down Tincan.” Jason could _hear_ the eye roll, but the other turned his face away even more in a reassuring gesture, which caused a gentle smile on Jason’s face as he looked down. Stray seemed oddly good at telling what Jason was thinking of.

“Thought you were asleep.” He admitted and started getting out bandages and gauze. There’d be no need for stitches. 

“And miss the dramatic past-self monologue? Never.” The raven-haired man chuckled but it turned into coughing from a dry throat. Jason was quick to reach for the water that was on the table. It had been left behind from when he’d been eating dinner earlier but he figured that the cat wouldn’t be so picky right now.

“Here, drink before you cough up your lungs.” He reached out the glass to the figure whose face still wasn’t visible, but the glass was accepted with a low thank you.

“Also,” Stray took another sip of water before handing it back to Jason. “, if you think anyone could stay unconscious while you pour, what, vodka? Over a flesh wound. Then you’ve obviously never had to do it yourself.” Stray snickered, now with a much clearer voice that somehow lightened the weight on top of Jason’s chest.

“Brandy, actually.” Jason corrected the man and placed the glass next to the couch incase his guest wanted more.

A silence fell between them after Stray snorted at Jason’s correction and he examined the wound. It was a flesh wound, not deep. Wouldn’t take any sutures or trips to the hospital. With gentle fingers he started wrapping the leg in compressed dressings. The skin was red around the opening of it, but that was from the alcohol, otherwise it looked clean and like it’d be back to normal soon enough. 

The only sound that rested over them was the sound of the kitchen clock ticking to a steady beat. A few cars passed by outside the window, but most disappeared mere seconds after their arrival. The floorboards beneath the rug Jason was sitting on creaked gently as he shifted his position once the leg was securely wrapped and resting over a pillow. He’d observed Alfred doing these kinds of procedures a hundred times, enough so they were drilled into his own muscle memory without having performed them by himself for much long. 

“So…” Stray finally broke the silence and shifted slightly in his position across the small couch. “Your friend, why do you talk about him like that?” He asked and Jason watched him curl his toes, reassuring himself that his leg wasn’t too damaged.

“Because it’s the truth.” Jason shrugged and leaned back, grabbing the bottle of alcohol from its former resting space between the couch and living room table. 

“What’d you mean?” Stray asked, seemingly interested in hearing more. 

“It’s a long story.” Jason avoided it, hoping that Stray would catch the hint that _this_ wasn’t a subject he felt especially motivated in discussing. 

“Does it look like I’m in a hurry?” The cat said sardonically and most definitely understood that Jason was avoiding it. But he didn’t seem to care. “You can’t just start a story and then not finish it.” He argued with a determination in his words.

“You know I can kick you out any second?” Jason quirked a tired eyebrow even though he knew the other wouldn’t see it. 

“I know.” The cat said calmly and seemed as far from worried as possible, growing comfortable on the couch from the looks of it. “But you won’t.” 

_Well he wasn’t wrong. Shut up._ Jason’s brain pestered him, forcing him to take swig of the bottle. 

“He didn’t actually die, did he?” Stray asked ignoring the other’s drinking and deep sighs.

 _No, that was me,_ Jason thought bitterly and looked down at the bottle that was clutched in his hand. “Might as well have.” He said and looked back at the figure laying resting on his couch. His face turned away from Jason’s, but he too seemed to be studying the patterned ceiling above them. 

“What do you mean?” A softer voice came back in comparison to the persistent one he’d heard earlier. 

“Haven’t seen him for a long time. I… Moved away.” _To put it lightly._ Jason pulled his hair back. He was so close to Stray, he could just stand up and pull down the hood, then he’d see who was actually behind the mask. _The owner of those eyes._

“Why don’t you go find him?” The voice across from him pondered, probably trying to figure out why anyone would stay away from someone that they spoke so fondly of. _Well it wasn’t as simple as having moved to another city or state._

_Why am I even discussing this with Stray?_ Jason asked himself and considered getting up, leaving the other on the couch to venture into his own bedroom where he could brood by himself. But that’d be too much like Bruce wouldn’t it? Emotionally crippled, distant from everything and everyone. No, he didn’t want to be like that. And if he was going to talk to anyone, then why not someone that might be just as fucked up? Stray was in the same field of… work. And perhaps he’d understand. Or mock him. Whatever. What did it matter?

“I don’t think he’d see me as the same person anymore.” He answered as his rough skin traced the bottle’s curves and his fingers tapped against the glass. “I don’t really think he’s the same either.” 

_Might be dead for all I know._

_No._ No matter the dark thoughts. That one, he wouldn’t go near. 

“So?” Stray broke his thought in half with a voice that Jason found oddly comforting. “Isn’t that the point?” He asked in a thoughtful voice, as if he was considering his words with much care. Picking them out individually to solidify whatever was going on inside his mind. “That we all grow. We basically morph into somebody else. Isn’t that what keeps a relationship going? Knowing that the love for that person grows as the individual does as well… At least I thought that was what love was about, to love someone through everything. Discover new sides of that person and still learn to treasure it, hold it dear…” 

Jason looked at the body in front of him in cheer wonder. “I never said I loved him.” He shifted on his seat on the floor, ‘cause that was all he could say in return. 

He did however take a mental note to head out the next day and completely obliterate whoever caused this, whoever hurt someone that could speak with such gentle and beautiful words. And they were aimed towards _Jason_. Which might have been the most honoring and mindfucking thing that’d happened all night. 

“Oh please,” Stray said slightly mockingly but in an endearing way. “, the way you talk of that _friend_ makes me wonder why you’re still sitting here with me.” 

Jason laughed at that, looking out the window of his living room. Perhaps he had a point in what he was saying. But life as the Red Hood was way too violent to ever bring someone else into it, especially that defenseless kid with too big of a camera. 

_But what about someone who was already in it?_

A silence formed between them but before it could reach the point where it’d be impenetrable, Stray spoke again. “Life is too short not to treasure those close to you…” The voice was soaked in sadness, but it was distant. The kind that had been lingering, growing steady for years. The kind you either learn to coexist with, or went under with. 

And then all there was, was silence. Not awkward, _’coughs sounding like volcanos’_ silence. It was a comforting one. The kind you could find if you took the time to look. It could be in a meadow, solely surrounded by a gentle breeze. Or you’d find it stargazing, looking for answers out in a sea that was far greater than we could ever understand. 

After what felt like not nearly long enough, Jason began packing up the medkit and alcohol. Putting everything back in place till the area was all clean again. He was standing out in the kitchen and was about to head back to his own bedroom when there was a faint whisper from the couch. 

“Thank you.” 

Jason smiled looking over at the shadow resting on his couch and then walked out of the open space. Everyone had their own struggles. Either draping the top, or buried deep inside. Rooted at the core. The only consolation you could really find was the fact that you weren’t alone. 

The next morning, Jason woke up in an empty apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out in two weeks instead of one, this author needs to plot some more sorry


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry for the late update. Further explanation is at the end.  
> But for now, I hope you enjoy this chapter^^

_(Tuesday, a week later, daytime)_

“I’m an idiot.” Jason let out a deep, exasperated sigh as he leaned against the bike parked behind him. There were hefty clouds drifting high above him, threatening the city with their heavy content. However, nothing that bothered the young man who was shooting glanced around him.

The street was empty, seemed closed to deserted, as he stood on top of the hill that was one of the richest neighbourhoods of north Gotham. Standing in silence at the end of the no return street, he could see the city spread out below with its gloomy and mundane foggy light. Nothing but the rattling of heavy tree crowns and perfectly groomed bushes were flying through the air. There was the occasional distant roar of engines, but the closest active road was far away enough to be drowned out, lost along the way. 

_Drake Estate_

The golden sign read from its placement, perched upon a stone pillar that made up one side of the big iron gates. It was just as quiet on the other side of the fence. No sound and no movement. The grand wooden doors forming an entrance to the majestic house looked sealed shut and seemed to have been for quite some time. Uninviting, telling Jason to go away. Something that sent shivers through Jason, who was borderline sitting on his bike, parked at the sideway outside. There were no cars or signs of life over the street. The neighbourhood consisting of four houses, all with a fair distance between each other. Leaving plenty of space for luxurious gardens and privacy.

_This was all Stray’s fault_

Over a week ago, Jason had woken up to find his apartment dreadfully dead and empty. No traces or evidence of anything having ever happened, except a bloody towel and a half emptied bottle of alcohol. It was safe to say, he had not been surprised. But he’d not been angry either. At first he mostly worried over the fact that the cat now knew where he lived, but that worry withered and he was eager in letting it die. He’d helped Stray, and he hoped that in return, the cat would keep quiet regarding his living situation. 

He trusted that the other would; so much that he still had not moved out to another building. He’d stayed in the broken down apartment and without much thought to it - other than the fact that he was turning into an idiot - he’d started leaving a window open at night. Convincing himself that it was a precassion, a very strange precession. So that if Stray were to ever be in trouble again, he’d at least have the option of seeking refuge at the small living area, situation in the middle of the east ends. It was a precaution. A safety net and garaunte that his latest investment wouldn’t go to waste over something as tedious as low level criminals not keeping their guns steady and thoughts clear. 

_That was all it was._

_A precaution_

It had nothing to do with anything else. Certainly not wishful thinking that anything could _ever_ actually happen between them. That Stray would ever come to Jason voluntarily.

“This is a waste of time.” He scowled, but he did not move. Just tightened his crossed arms and looked down determinately at his boots that were scraping against the pavement, kicking the gravel. Digging his heels into the ground to later shift and dig his toes into it.

They hadn’t seen each other since that night. Stray had been busy, which led Jason to believe he was either growing tired of the hooded crime lord, or that he was a student. He prefered the second theory far more. After all, they had been talking over text and email. And exams were coming up. 

_Yeah, he had to be a student._

This had also resulted in a persistent search of the GSU campus ground. He found himself going on ‘walks’, especially between classes. Walking the halls, staircases, library and common pathways between buildings. Eyes on high alert for ruffled hair and crystal blue eyes. 

So far, he’d come up with nothing. Perhaps he just went to another school. Or took online courses. But he didn’t let the thought die, he held onto it. Only now, he allowed himself more naps between lessons and less of that ‘10 000 steps a day’ attitude. 

Head first, he’d doved into the Scarecrow case, during the nights when he knew Stray wouldn’t be out, and when there was no need for the Red Hood to make an appearance. The files Stray sent over, together with the notes he’d attached, were etched into Jason’s brain. By now, he felt like he could probably quote each page and paragraph, word by word. There had been too many nights at the sofa with heaps of papers burying him. Both school work and Scarecrow files. 

He almost turned in Jonathan Crane’s psyche analysis instead of his english literature paper last Thursday. 

And even though he dedicated every free minute of his days and nights to understanding the nutcase and what his next move would be, thoughts regarding someone else were in the middle of a wild MMA fight against Scarecrow. Like two boxers fighting to catch the spotlight that was Jason’s mind. 

And even though he wanted to focus on the case and get everything over with, it did seem like the cat was tearing the living hell out of the hay filled doll.

_Stray…_

_His partner in crime..._

He’d never been much for pairing up, but then again, he’d never met anyone like Stray before. The only time he’d ever _really_ appreciate the company of someone else, to such an extent, had been when he was younger. 

For the first time in a long time, Jason had finally allowed himself to _actually_ think of Timothy Drake. And all because of someone else. 

For the first time in a long time, he didn’t fight it.

For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to drown in it.

_”Come on, you do the exact same pose every time.” The boy lowered his camera with a disapproving expression. “Do something different!” He said and the small face disappeared once again behind the lense that looked too big and out of proportion for his body._

_Jason rolled his eyes with a dramatic sigh, but obeyed, striking another pose. “Already did that… And that…” Tim continued on as Jason tried out different poses. After having listened to ‘and that’ one too many times, Jason resorted to jumping into the silliest pose he could ever imagine; ignoring the fact that he was wearing his Robin costume and that he wasn’t supposed to act so carelessly in it. But the pose worked and earned him a beautiful laughter and the click of a photo being taken._

_“You’re such a dork.” Tim let go off the camera, allowing it to rest over his torso with the help of its strap._

_“I know.” Jason shrugged with a smile and jumped down from his scenic position on the stone gargoyle._

_Tim was standing on the rooftop next to him, and with one swift kick and an okay flip, he was too. “It’s a part of my charm.” He stood with wide legs and hands on his hips, the typical hero pose, as he winked at his friend. The city was gleaming beneath them, as if all those little lights were just meant for two young boys on top of a roof. All just for their enjoyment._

_The younger boy smiled, creating crinkles of skin around his eyes. It was a lovely smile, one Jason wished he could see more often. Ever since his mom passed, that smile had become a rarity. His cheeks were gaunt, but currently they looked puffy as if he’d been crying not too long ago. His face also hosted dark half moons under the eyes, but those weren’t exactly new. Tim had always been awful at sleeping. He looked older than he was, older than Jason sometimes. He also acted older for being so young._

_“Can I see the pictures?” Jason asked and came out of the atrocious pose he’d been holding._

_“Yeah!” Tim nodded, fumbling with the camera as he sat down on the ledge, dangling his feet over it as if nothing in the world could hurt him. As if a twenty story drop was nothing more than a skip, as if death itself was nothing worse than a slimy old toad._

_Jason never understood it, so he’d asked. Asked how he could be so careless without any form of training or gear. So safe, without any safety net and with no guarantees._

_“Isn’t it obvious?” He’d answered. “Because you’re here.”_

_Tim had said it in that tone that only he could perform. The voice that made every sentence sound like reason, implying that any other alternative answer would’ve been idiotic. That of course he trusted Jason to catch him. Blind faith at its purest._

_Jason had never felt that before. Never known of such trust, such faith in someone. Perhaps it could be compared to religion. The amount of faith that people entrusted in god, or the universe. Whatever force you chose to stand by, fall head first into. But Jason wasn’t religious, so he’d never experienced it before. And once he did, it’d left him feeling infinite._

_He followed Tim’s lead and jumped down beside him, scooting closer so that they could both look at the small device’s screen, legs grazing each other’s as they swung over the steep fall. There were so many pictures that Jason barely kept up with Tim’s scrolling through them. It was like Tim could move through them faster than Jason could even think. But then the scrolling stopped at the most recent one, and when Jason looked up, he saw Tim’s eyes studying it carefully, with a content smile over his face._

_“This is my favorite.” The boy handed the camera to Jason and their fingers brushed against each other._

_It wasn’t very heroic or pretty. Jason was pulling out his tongue, tugging on his ears so that he looked like a mouse or an elephant. His cape was stuck in his utility belt and there was a suppressed grin coating his entire face. Bruce would’ve been madly disapproving over this sort of picture having ever existed of Robin. But this was wasn’t Robin._

_“Really? Why?” Jason looked over at Tim who pulled the camera back into his lap._

_Tim considered the question as he once again looked over the photo with a gentle smile. “Because it’s you.” He answered, again, as if it was the clearest thing on earth. “It’s not like the pictures I see of you in the papers, not like the ones of_ Robin _or_ Jason Todd _, son of Bruce Wayne. It’s just Jason.”_

_He stared at the boy next to him throughout the explanation. His own eyes wide and lips slightly parted in surprise. Tim saw something that not many did. He didn’t see a punk kid adopted by a rich man. He didn’t see the shadow of Batman. He saw a force of balance to the universe, to Gotham. He saw a kid. He saw a friend._

_Tim seemed to have noticed Jason’s reaction as his own face grew almost as scarlet as the sunset they’d witnessed a couple of hours ago, his fingers starting to pick and run over the camera. “Yeah.. I don’t know if that makes any sense really, but it does to me and-” He was interrupted._

_The older boy was beaming and threw an arm around him. “It’s perfect!” He grinned and watched Tim’s shy expression turn into an equally warm and wide smile as his own._

_And so the night passed on and eventually Jason had to leave. Bruce wanted him back at the cave and Tim had to get back to catch at least a couple of hours of sleep till school started. That cheerful beam had been erased, replaced by a saddened expression._

_“I’ll be back on Wednesday!” Jason encouraged the other, although he couldn’t really say he was feeling that glad either. Parting was always the worst. Tim had to get back to his drunk of a dad, and Jason had to go report. It wasn’t fair in either of the boys’ minds._

_Tim nodded in agreement and attempted a smile, “Yeah...” He confirmed and looked down at his shoes. Neither of them were any good at the ending part, probably because they didn’t know how to end it and the fact that they didn’t want to._

_“Hey…” Tim looked up again and Jason met his eyes. “You think that… In the future,” Tim looked away, glancing to his left as he continued. “, we could get a place of our own. Maybe go to college together, you know, like roommates.” He glanced back up at Jason._

_“Yes!” Jason was quick to grab the other’s arms, feeling excitement fill his entire body. “That’d be great!” He grinned, a glimmer shooting across his eyes. “But you can go to college,” He stated and loosened his grip of the other. “, if I so much as have to think about school for more than a second, I think my brain will melt out of my ears.” He grimaced but thrived in the thought._

_Tim laughed and nodded, “Fine.” He complied with an amused sigh. “As long as we don’t have to say goodbye.” He reached out his pinky finger and Jason rolled his eyes, mostly just to tease the other for this slightly embarrassing ceremony they'd picked up. Which he was successful in, since he soon felt a fist hit his arm, without any real force._

_“Fine, fine.” He laughed and held out his own pinky after having pulled of the glove. As they intertwined his smile grew wider and so did the smile on the other boy’s face._

_“Promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

Promises used to be so innocent, so strong. When you were younger promises were like the power that held the universe together, unbreakable in every sense. A force to be reckoned with, to fear and treasure for its resilience. Its indestructibility. Except for, perhaps, death. The time Jason had been allowed with the younger boy hadn’t been long enough. It lasted a few years, when it should’ve lasted so many more. But now, he allowed himself to imagine what would’ve happened if he’d stayed. 

_Not_ gone to Sarajevo on his own. If he’d just told _someone,_ a bit sooner. Would he still be in college now? But without the white streak of hair, many scars and nightmares. And even more importantly, would he have been roommates with Tim?

Lived a normal life?

What even was a normal life? 

“Hello?” A voice pulled Jason out of his own depressive thoughts and he looked up, once again facing the the big iron gates. The house looked like a fortress, ready for attack and its inhabitants invisible from their safe hiding inside. The bricks that formed the massive structure were, however, not as torn and worn down as he would’ve imagined after so many years. And the fact that this was Gotham. No building seemed to grow past the age of ten.

But now, the bars that he was facing weren’t offering free insight to the driveway and solid wooden doors. No, now there was someone in the way. 

There was a woman, perhaps coming close to her sixties, standing on the other side of them. Her auburn hair, spotted by grey, was trickling down her face, reaching for her shoulders. Although, it seemed that there was a ponytail holding some of it back, but it was a sad excuse of one. With green rounded eyes, grey shirt, blue cardigan and black pants, she looked at Jason awaiting some kind of explanation. 

But she didn’t get one, “Who are you?” Jason demanded and stood up from his position against his Harley. No one was supposed to be home, not on an early tuesday afternoon. So the strange woman’s sudden appearance did send some warning signal through his body, whether he liked it or not. 

“I believe you’re the one spying on this house. So if you don’t leave, I’ll call the cops.” Her mouth pursed into a thin line and she began walking back towards the estate. 

“Wait!” Jason’s hand flew out as if he could grab a hold of her. He let if fall down feeling foolish and sighed. “I… Used to know,” He pointed towards the window he knew was Tim’s room. Or had been, at least. “, them.” He finished and saw how the woman glanced back towards the house. “Just didn’t recognize you.” He added with an apologetic shrug. 

“You knew the young sir?” She asked with a surprised expression, stepping closer to the bars. Still, arms crossed over her chest, but with an interested look over her. 

“Tim?” Jason felt weird thinking of the kid as _sir_. Didn’t seem natural or right. “Yeah, I knew him. We used to-ehh, be friends.” Jason’s eyes darted between the woman and his bike. Maybe he was risking a bit too much by going here. It wasn’t like he could ask her to _not_ tell Tim how someone had come looking at his house, brooding outside his iron gates. “Moved away.” Jason added. 

“Well that’s certainly a surprise. The young man doesn’t seem to have many friends.” She said in thought. “But a nice surprise nonetheless.” There was a low smile, something telling Jason that this woman was no threat. She cared for Tim. 

“Would you like to come in for some tea? Or coffee maybe?” Jason felt his eyebrows reach for his forehead and looked up towards the great building. 

_Dangerous game, Jason._

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He looked back at his Harley once again. He should’ve been driving away from there. Kick the engine to life, take a sharp U-turn at the end of the street and go back to the east ends. But he wasn’t moving.

“It looks like it’s about to rain soon, you sure you don’t want to just come in for a short chat? The young sir isn’t here but it gets so quiet around here, these day.” The woman sighed and was already opening the gates, offering Jason entrance to a place he was sure could bring nothing but trouble. But Tim wasn’t home, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt. And before he knew it, he was passing the point of return, by stepping past the prominent line where the gate usually rested closed. 

“You still haven’t told me who you are.” The woman said in a victorious undertone and a pleased smile, indicating no worries whatsoever that Jason might be a threat. Content in her new found company.

“Likewise.” Jason mumbled and looked around the courtyard that was the front of the Drake estate. There was a graveled pathway leading up to the huge wooden doors. Nothing compared Wayne manor, but still impressive. And excessive. The graveled walk was lined with neatly gardened flowers and bushes, opening up for entrance to the garden at a few places along the line of larger stones creating a clear end of the driveway and start of the ornate garden. 

“Oh, how foolish of me.” The woman waved her hand as she closed the gates, leaving Jason’s bike behind and turning to Jason. “I’m Olivia Mac, the caretaker.” Her hand reached out and grabbed Jason’s, who hadn’t even extended his arm to the fullest yet. 

“Peter Johnson.” Jason shook it, glancing down at the woman’s gentle hands, but strong grip. “Caretaker? I thought Timothy would be old enough without a guardian or caretaker by now.” Jason asked and quirked an eyebrow. He had to be, he was just two years younger than Jason. 

“Oh no, not the young sir!” The woman waved her hand dismissively and lead the way across the grounds, towards the house. It towered over Jason, making him feel small as he was entering known, and still strange, territory. 

His eyes got stuck at the top left corner of the house. He knew what laid beyond the solid bricks. Tim’s old bedroom was against that corner and stretched to the west side of the house. There, on the shorter side, were the more accessible windows, where Jason had picked up the boy many times as kids. He’d schimmy up the side of the building and knock twice, wait a second, then knock once more. 

Not long after there’d be a figure popping up from behind the glass, eagerly unhooking the locks and opening up the windows. Usually Tim would meet him downtown, sneak out on his own. But every now and then, Jason would love to surprise the kid on days they weren’t supposed to meet. 

“I look after the house.” The woman opened up the big wooden doors that hadn't been locked at all. They didn’t even creak when she pushed one of them open. 

“What, Tim still doesn’t change his sheets or what?” Jason laughed but the woman shook her head with a weak smile.

“I’m afraid a lot must have change since you last visited. Timothy doesn’t live here anymore.” She informed and closed the heavy doors as they both stepped in. She ceremoniously took off her shoes and moved them aside, walking inside and down the hall, expecting Jason to follow.

“Wha-” Jason almost stepped past the small ‘welcome’ rug that looked out of place, when he caught himself and kicked off his boots. Not as elegantly as the woman had toed hers off, but good enough. He followed, walking down the halls. It all looked fine to him. Not that he’d ever been downstairs. But it looked just like he’d imagined. Luxurious, a lot of expensive carved wooden details in the railing leading upstairs, vaces placed out on ornamental tables; some even contained flowers.

They passed a sitting room, and with the short glances he was able to throw inside, he could make out a sofa set. Not the kind you saw in your everyday home. It was stiffer. Straighter back, curved edges, patterned fabric stretching tight over it. The sofas’ patterns were matching with the chairs, that didn’t look too comfortable. Wooden legs and armrests, only covered by thin flowered fabric. 

There was a low glass table with yet another vase on it, this one holding small branches. A piano was stationed over, perched up against the south wall, fireplace on the north side, burrea on the east. Great windows with great curtains against west. 

“What do you mean doesn’t live here anymore? He’s the only Drake left.” Jason tore his gaze away from the staircase that could so easily lead him to Tim’s old room. 

“He was put in the system, as I’m sure you know, and when he came of age he just never returned.” She gestured for Jason to take a seat on one of the kitchen stools as they entered a very renovated kitchen. He slipped into it, looking around confused as Olivia opened up some kitchen cabinets. “Tea or coffee, dear?” Her head stuck out from behind the open cabinet door.

“Tea.” Jason shifted awkwardly and turn around to find a dining table looking less modern. “How come so much is so modern if he never moved back?” 

The lady placed a cattle over the gas stove, bringing over two teacups to the kitchen island where Jason was sitting. “Well, that’s not quite the whole story.” The rattle of porcelain stopped once the cups were solid on the table. “Give me a second won’t you, and I’ll explain to the best of my abilities.” Her aged hands left the table and grabbed a few metal boxes from a cabinet instead. “Is Earl Grey alright?” 

“Yes.” Jason’s eyes were now taking notice to the lack of life. There weren’t much of anything. It was clean and the caretaker seemed to be doing her job. Not a particle of dust as far as Jason could see. But there was no fruit on the kitchen bench, no cereal on top of the shelves, no items scattered across the different surfaces of the room. Not so much as a hoodie or book left around. 

_No one lived here._ Just an empty house, crushed by its history. No wonder Tim wasn’t feeling up to living here anymore. Jason wasn’t exactly bouncing at the thought of going back to Wayne manor. No, he’d actually rather shoot his foot, there were too many memories. 

But after some remodeling, or perhaps a bulldozer or two, a wrecking ball. Then maybe he’d consider going back. So what kept Tim from that option? By the looks of it, money wasn’t the problem.

“Here we go.” The woman exhaled as she poured the steaming hot water into each cup, filling the room with a subtle bitterness. The clear water being invaded by golden strokes originating from the inside of the tea strainer. She put the cattle away before sitting down, pulling her cup towards her as Jason did the same. There was a small container of milk and an equally small bowl of sugar cubes between them, but Jason reached for neither. He prefered his tea plain. 

“Where were we?” The woman asked and poured some milk into her own cup. 

“Tim and why he doesn’t live at his own house.” Jason said, perhaps a bit too frankly and stirred the tea around with a small teaspoon. 

However, the woman seemed to have no problem with his brashness, she only opened her mouth in an o-shape and leaned back. “Ah- right...” She nodded. “Well as you said, the house is indeed pretty pampered.” She gestured to the new fridge across from them and the rest of the modern devises decorating the room. “But I’m afraid this was all very recent additions. You see, when Mr. Drake passed away and Timothy was put in the system, he was left with very little.” There was a grievance in her voice and her eyes were locked onto the tea she was stirring on the table. “I used to work for the Drakes many years back, when Mrs. Drake was still alive.” She took a sip of the beverage and nodded in thought. “Such a lovely woman, and man.” She was quick to add. “Just couldn’t cope with the loss…” 

“That’s no excuse to act like a shitbag and leave your kid with nothing.” Jason scowled and let his mouth be occupied by the scorching tea hitting his tongue. He didn’t care that it was way to hot, there was a need for distraction or he feared he might start yelling. 

“Oh, _of course_ not!” Olivia said in an agitated tone, dismissing Jason’s accusation with the wave of her hand. “All I’m saying is, I knew them before they passed. I would’ve tried taking in Timothy myself, but I didn’t have the means to offer a real home for the boy.” She said with a heavy sigh, almost regret. 

“So when he moved to his new foster home, I left the Drake’s estate. After all, I had to have a job. But then I got a phone call a few years back.” She sipped her tea and then gave Jason a look, like she was going to tell Jason the answer to the million dollar question. “Who would’ve thought, it was Timothy himself, calling to ask me to come back and work for him. I must say, I was beyond happy to hear the boy’s voice, all grown up and sounding stronger than ever. He had so many ideas. Redid the entire kitchen, some of the rooms upstairs _and_ the garden. Polished this place up real nice if I say so myself.” She chimed like a happy old bell as she spoke. Like a loving grandmother, almost. 

Jason let on a low smile. The old caretaker reminding him of an old british butler. 

“But I was just as surprised to hear that he wouldn’t be staying. He asked me to continue my work around the house as a maid, only remove the workload related to the care of the owners.” She didn’t seem too sad, but she wasn’t as joyus in her expression anymore. “Even told me he’d increase my salary. Of course I told him I was perfectly happy with my old income and that there was no need for such things. And how could I accept more money when I didn’t even do all the work anymore?” Her final sentence sounded more like a declaration than a question. “But I accepted, I always loved working for Mr. and Mrs. Drake. They were kind. And to no one's surprise, so is their son.”

“I thought the Drakes went bankrupt after Mr. Drake passed away. How could Tim pay for all this?” Jason asked. Considering the prices of renovating such an old building _and_ keeping a maid around, even offering increased payment. Where would an eighteen year old boy get money like that? Let alone an eighteen year old who just got out of his foster home. Tim didn’t seem like the type to get into shady shit, but Jason also hadn’t seen him in ten years. 

“I don’t know, the young sir never told me. I tried to ask him again next time we met but I never got an answer.” Olivia shrugged and took a sip of her tea, reminding Jason of his own. 

He’d been listening so intently that he’d forgotten about the beverage and the pain in his mouth. He reached for the milk and added some to his drink, hoping it’d help him cool his stinging tongue. 

“So where did he go?” Jason continued, feeling a craving for answers to the billions of questions that were hovering over his head. 

“He didn’t tell me.” She said simply, once again. “Didn’t actually tell me much at all. But I do believe he’s still in Gotham. He still comes to visit, about once a month. Was actually here the other week.” 

Jason felt the same kind of unease that he’d felt upon entering the house rise once again, crawl over his back. _Tim had been here, just a week ago. Had he been sitting here having tea as well? Was he just as much of a stranger in this house as Jason was?_

“Had a _horrible_ limp though, I’ve tried to tell that young man to stop whatever it is he’s doing, but he just keeps coming back to visit with _nasty_ bruises and wounds. Oh how I wish I knew what he was up to, close to giving me a heart attack sometimes.” She shook her head disapprovingly and sighed.

Jason looked up with big eyes and swallowed the gulp of tea that he’d been sipping at. “He getting into trouble?” He asked, even though he could never imagine _Tim_ getting into trouble. Tim Drake was just a nerd with too big of a camera. He couldn’t be a trouble maker. Not even ten years could change that. 

“I don’t know.” The lady almost growled, with a tired and exasperated little crinkle between her eyebrows. “Last time it was a limp and an abrasion over his cheek, the time before that it was his shoulder, and before _that_ he had apparently cut himself cooking....” She looked at Jason with a _very_ skeptic face. “...over his upper right arm.”

Jason suddenly found himself dead still and as immobile as physically possible, unless you were legally dead. And Jason had been legally dead. He knew he wasn’t far off. Suddenly the pain from the scolding tea died out. Now his mouth was dry, feeling like a dessert all the way down to his throat. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth, mouth feeling similar to sandpaper. “You said he had a limp, you know which leg?” Upon asking, he immediately bit the inside of his cheek, tasting copper not so long after. 

_Tim was just a nerd with too big of a camera..._

Olivia looked at him with a puzzled expression but then turned her gaze elsewhere, pondering over the question. “Well, I think it was the left leg, if I remember correctly… Yes, definitely the left one. It was the same one as his cheek, and the cheek was on the left side.” She nodded and looked back at Jason. 

The taller man attempted to swallow again, but his mouth was too dry. Wouldn’t allow anything but an awkward choke. His fingers were starting to become shaky and unstable, so he let go of the cup and closed his hands together, squeezing tight. He cleared his throat in a weak attempt at regaining some control of his body, but his voice still came out hoarse, dry and forced. “You- you don’t have a picture of Tim, do you?”

Mrs. Mac looked at him, once again, in confusion but then reached a hand down to her pockets. Digging down the soft fabric of her pants to pull out a cellphone. Her aged fingers opened it by holding the phone in one hand and using the other’s index finger to tap over the screen. After some squinting and hesitant taps, the device was slid across the white table till it was resting right in front of Jason. There had been no photos around the house when they’d walked in. But Jason needed no reminders. He remembered those eyes and that ridiculous grin, clear as day. So when the picture became visible before him, he didn’t understand why he hadn’t seen it earlier. 

A scrawny young man was standing next to the woman he himself was sitting across of. They were standing together, a photo taken during the reconstruction of the house. He was smiling. _Creating crinkles around the eyes._ The hair was messy, rough and hanging over his forehead. _Jet black locks of hair._ Lips were stretched long in a smile, but pink. _And teasing a way too familiar smirk._ His body was lean, not especially tall though. He was about the same height as his companion in the photo. There was more muscle than Jason had remembered, more weight in his posture. 

But then there was the final piece of the puzzle. _Eyes._ Blue as the ocean, roaring at the surface and resting heavy at the bottom. And they were staring right at the camera, _right at Jason._

_Tim Drake was just..._

“Excuse me, I have to make a call.” He got to his feet and walked out, ignoring the curious look he got from the woman he left behind.

His legs moved towards the exit, creating muffled thuds as his heels hit the kitchen tile, growing louder as he entered the wooden floors of the hallway.

His hand wrapped around the device, resting in his front pocket. He was wearing a pair of standard black jeans that were now starting to chafe uncomfortably against his legs as he moved through the house, large steps, pushing the great wooden doors open to walk outside. It was raining now. Heavy, fat drops of water hitting the ground as if the gods were firing at him with assault rifles. He didn’t care though. He needed air. 

His feet barely noticing the sharp gravel underneath him, he stepped out without shoes and the water soon made its way over his body. It was hitting his leather jacket that he hadn’t bothered removing and his unkempt hair, slowly bending down from the power of the weather. 

He hit dial. 

It felt like minutes till someone picked up, even though the logical part of his brain knew that it was only a few seconds. And before there was a scrambling for connection, he was breathing heavy through his mouth.

 _“Tincan? Hey what’s up?”_ There was noise in the background. Jason didn’t recognize it, but he couldn’t tell from over the phone. 

_“Hey, are you okay?”_ The young man across town asked, hushing the noise in the background. There was instant silence from the other end and Jason still didn’t know what to say.

 _“Hood?”_ Jason opened his mouth but closed it again. 

_“Hood, are you okay?”_ The voice was demanding an answer, needing an answer. Jason could hear it. He just couldn’t say anything. Why were there no words? Why couldn’t there ever be words? For fucks sake Jason it’s just words! Stop being such a bitch and say a _goddamn_ sentence. Or not. Just say _something!_

“Yeah…” His voice was strained. Vocal cords felt tight and was starting to hurt his throat. As if speaking physically caused him harm. “Yeah, I’m okay.” The water felt like ice, shooting down at his hand that was cradling the voice next to his ear. 

_Tim Drake was..._

_“God, you had me worried there for a second.”_ Stray laughed and the noise from the other end arose once again, growing louder. 

“You got people over.” Jason said, more of an observation than a question. He was drifting. Moving away. He could see the ocean far, far away now, but the heavy rain was drowning it and Jason was being swept away.

_“Yeah, it’s just-”_

“Hey Stray.” Jason interrupted him. “Why aren’t you afraid of falling?” he let the words fall out of his mouth, not even thinking. The rain was hitting him, beating him into the ground. But he stood put. It wasn’t beautiful or romantic like the movies. His heart was stinging, contracting and burning. Several times he had to wipe the hair out of his face because the water kept weighing it down. 

The late summer rain had never felt so cold. 

_“What do you mean?”_ Stray asked sounding utterly perplexed by Jason’s random question. The noise in the background at Stray’s end was left out by the heavy rain only allowing him to hear what he needed to.

_Tim Drake was..._

“When you’re up,” Jason breathed out, feeling his chest rise and fall, fast. “Above the streets and those below. Knowing that you could fall off the edge at any given time... Why aren’t you scared?” He didn’t even bother wiping the away water anymore. It could drown him, for all he cared.

There was a silence for some time, the only noise being the rain hitting the small rocks surrounding him. But then the voice reappeared. _“I trained, a lot.”_ It was a sad attempt of the playful and teasing voice that served as such a characteristic for the thief. Not fooling anyone, least of all Jason. He was thinking of something. _“I trained for many years Hood, what’s this about?”_ Stray asked with confusion still laying thick over his voice. 

_Tim Drake..._

“Promise?” Jason felt his chest crack, wrench inside of him. Wanting to escape. Grab the guts and heart and get as far away from his broken and beaten down shell of a body. 

_Tim Drake was not just a nerd…_

He didn’t get an answer, but the silence spoke for itself.

And Jason hung up. 

_Tim Drake was not just a nerd…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it’s the final weeks of school for me at the moments, which means I’m quite busy and really tired. I also just got a dog and am trying to balance the rest of life with writing this and my personal writing. That’s why this chapter took some time to get out there. I have no intentions of dropping this fic, I’m way to fond of it. But just please bare with me as I’m trying to finish off this semester with at least okay grades haha.  
> I also haven’t had time to proofread this yet but I wanted it up so that you guys wouldn’t have to wait any longer, I’ll get to proofreading as fast as I can to remove any major mistakes hah
> 
> As always, hit me up on Tumblr if you want to share some opinions or if you’re just a generally cool person.
> 
> (Edit: Guys! the support and comments, omg i don’t know what to say, but thank you. God, I don’t think you could ever understand how happy I got when I saw it. Thank you all!)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to all those who commented on the last one! You guys are the best! Thank you <3 <3

_(Tuesday)_

Even though Tim was inside, feet firm on the stone floors of his apartment, clothes warm and fuzzy from having spent the day inside - curled up on the couch, it still felt like a bucket of ice cold water had just been thrown over him. The line had died, perhaps some minutes ago, and Tim was still standing at the same position in the kitchen, gaze madly focused on the rain outside. He’d heard it from the other side of the line too. The same rain that was hitting his windows, the dirty pavements of Gotham and drenching all life, was also beating down on someone else. 

Someone that was most likely across the city, standing plastered to the ground, just like Tim. 

It was hard to breath. His breathes were short and jagged, almost as if someone had a placed a rock on his chest. Breathing was yet another thing his body was trying to concentrate on, together with the kitchen windows and spatter of rain. Anything but the obvious truth that had just been thrown into his face. 

The week had been normal so far. It’d been pretty great even. Tim had never felt so excited for… well, life. Everything was a challenge he was willing to take on. Nothing too big or too hard for him to solve. He’d been deep in the Scarecrow case, attempting to dig out the truth. Getting closer with each all nighter he pulled. His grades were outstanding, to Selina’s pleasure. He was actually catching more sleep than regularly even though he stayed up many nights. And there had only been a few nightmares. It was like a new fire had been lit inside of him. One eager to prove himself. To flipp god, or any divinity, off and say “fuck you, I made it”. 

But now it didn’t feel so great. He tried to climb out of whatever hole he’d just fallen into, grasp for reality or anything that could help him out of it. But if felt so in vein as he slowly dropped his hand down and let his phone rest on the kitchen counter, with his fingers still wrapped around it. 

“Tim do you have anything that is _not_ coffee?” Ivy walked up next to him, looking around the cabinets. When he didn’t answer she stopped. “Hey are you okay?” She put a hand on his shoulder, which caused him to jerk away, ever so slightly, and he swallowed hard. He couldn’t deal with this now, he had guests over. Guests he weren’t particularly keen on having this discussion with. 

“Yeah, just… College work.” He shook his head and smiled, praying that it reached his eyes. “I think I’ve got some of that tea you gave me.” He moved past her, avoiding her gaze, and climbed up the counter. He was too short to reach to top shelves otherwise. He grabbed a metal box and handed it to the redhead who accepted it with a genuine smile, although worry still draped her face. 

“I got you this like three christmases ago.” She quirked a skeptic eyebrow at him but turned to the kettle instead, thankfully brushing aside Tim’s state of stone he’d been in. 

“It’s dry leaves Ives.” he retorted with the same kind of skepticism. “I think we’re good.”

Harley, Ivy and Selina were all over, chatting. In truth, they’d been there since last night and Tim had not slept at all. At first there’d been a massive inquesetory regarding the G.A.E heist, which later lead to an equally large bombardment of questions regarding the Hood. And even though Tim was not so eager on sharing too much at the moment - most of which he wanted to keep for himself, in all honesty - he did find it nice to have the women’s company. It had been a while since he’d met all of them together. His two unofficial god mother’s together with his just as unofficial mother. But, nonetheless, they made him feel loved and safe, what he imagined a family was really like. 

So for now, he kept it together and kept quiet.

Selina gave him a few odd looks through their remaining visit. Mostly when he gazed to deeply into the empty coffee cup or made them repeat some question, but he made sure to excuse himself once that happened and went for a refill. She didn’t ask him what was wrong, and neither did Harley or Ivy. 

Later, they all left around the same time. Selina and Harley went first as they had business to discuss, but Ivy lingered. When she finally did walk out the door, her hug also lingered. It pressed tight around Tim and it felt like a part of him was ready to break just from that tiny bit of added pressure. Closing the door with a gentle smile, he waited a few second until he let his head fall against it. His eyes closed and before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wooden door. The small smile gone. 

The scene felt familiar. Like the one where he’d been stranded, alone in that alleyway. But he had not been alone, that was the thing. Someone had come and helped. 

His leg wasn’t hurting anymore, he thought as he looked down on the lanky limbs spread out before him. He’d stopped limping around like an old person a couple of days ago. Maybe that was what gave him away? No, that wasn’t possible. 

There was something wet running down cheeks. It was salty and burning into his slightly dry skin as he sat and felt his chest rise and fall. His ribs and lungs felt like they’d burst right open because of the pressure. He hadn’t realized his lips were pursed - keeping everything in, and when he finally let out a sob, he couldn’t stop. His breath began racing and it wasn’t long till he was starting to hyperventilate. Anxiety, schock, _life_ or whatever shit was going on was hitting him like a nuclear bomb. Banging his head against the door didn’t help with anything other than developing an ache there as well. 

There was no air.

His hands moved up to his clavicles and started scratching profusely over the skin, and just as it should be, there was nothing there, nothing constraining him. But panic got the better of him. Logic and sense was pushed aside as he slid down onto the cold apartment floors, curling in on himself. He knew how to break this. He had done it enough times to write a manual on it. And still, he wasn’t stopping it. His muscles were tensing up and beginning to ache, body cramping at the lack of air and he felt lightheaded. 

So much time had passed. So many years, days, hours and seconds. Measurements of time that Tim had believed something, when in fact, he’d been wrong. It was as if the world was flipping. Up was down. Right was left. The earth was the center of the universe and it was targeted by the darkest of cosmic powers. Tim was dying. Gravity was gone. They were all floating in pools of nonsense and disbelief. Because who could believe something that wasn’t real? _No one. That’s who._

But time was all but insignificant, as it proved. Take Tim back an hour ago and this would not be happening. Take him back ten years ago, and this would no be happening. Time was the real villain, the real threat to life. And Tim had already been robbed of his time. He wasn’t going to loose it again. 

He pushed aside all thoughts and all other actions, to throw his torso up. He landed in a sitting position with his spine bending over his legs. He was gasping for air as he was grasping for reality. But it did not matter, because there was no time for it. For once in the thief’s,hacker’s,student’s life, reality and logic would have to wait.

So he pushed himself, shakily, off of the ground. His fingers grabbed for the closest reliable surface and when he found it, he hoisted himself to standing posture and moved. He didn’t go for the door, but instead grabbed a hoodie on the couch and then threw the living room window open. With unsteady and hitched breathes he threw the hood over his hair and climbed out onto the fire escape. The rain was instantly there, ready to beat him to pulp, would he let it. His fingers grasped for the rail and he began his slippery ascent up. His sneakers squeaked from their already soaked state, his hoodie and t-shirt was clinging to his skin and he jumped the last few steps till he was at the top, ignoring the possibility of slipping and falling.

There was a good six feet distance from the top of the staircase to the rooftop, but that was no problem for Tim. He leaped against the railing and used it to ricotche himself upwards, grabbing for the edge of the roof. He maneuvered his body over it and found himself staring out over the surrounding rooftops. They were all looking even more grey than usual. The rain was hitting the city at such momentum that it was hard to see so much as fifty feet forwards.

He didn’t bother backing up for safety's sake, instead he rushed forwards - ignoring the short range of collecting his speed, and leapt off the rooftop’s edge. Mid air everything froze. Between two buildings, rain hitting him, air devouring him whole. Then wet ground hit his feet and he rolled over. This tactic of jumping between buildings went on till Tim could see _that_ specific building. He could see the window that he’d crawled out of, he could picture the inside. The scattered books and worn down furniture. He could smell the couch and it’s unevenly stuffed pillows. The smell of smoke, blood, and alcohol. But hidden underneath all of that, there had been something else. The same scent that had surrounded him in the alleyway, the same scent that had saved him that night. 

It couldn’t be true. There was just no possible explanation except that _this was a lie._ _He_ was dead. The Hood was not. Tim had watched that footage a billion times. No one could survive something like that. If not for the internal bleeding, then the exploding building definitely made sure of it. The coroner had signed all the right papers. Bruce had held a funeral. Bruce had been broken. The city had mourned. Tim had seen the body. 

There was just no way that he could ever be alive. _Jason Peter Todd was dead._

_Peter…_

“Fuck.” Tim’s face screwed up into grimace as his eyes began to burn and lungs ache in a familiar pain. He crouched down on the rooftop and buried his face in his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” He swayed on the balls of his feet, hoping to wake up at any moment, so that he could perform his breathing exercises and move on with his life. This wasn’t funny anymore, it never had been. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to stop dreaming of this. He never wanted to dream ever again. 

He hit the palms of his hands against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t feel the rain any longer and the sound that came with it was steadily dying. As if it was traveling further away and Tim was left behind feeling more like a ghost than a human. He was so close to the answer, to find anything real, and yet he couldn’t find the courage to get up from his ball-like position on the dirty Gotham rooftop. He not only felt confused, but now he also felt like the world’s biggest coward. Tim ten years ago - or even five, would’ve jumped at a chance like this one. But not now. These were delicate scars that would rip at slightest pressure, and he’d just learnt how to live with them. If they were to rupture, he wasn’t sure that any form of sutures would ever be able to patch them up again. He wasn’t sure he’d want them to either. 

_But what if…_

_Just…_

_If...._

With an added twenty pound weight on his chest, he got up. Knees straightened and hands fell down to the sides as he made his way to the right building, climbing down the side of it to pop the window open and slip in like a shadow. Constantly, ignoring his chest beating him up from the inside and his eyes burning as if looking at something really bright in the glooms of Gotham. The neighbourhood was too rough for anyone to bother believing he was an intruder - or too bad to do anything about it at least. You didn’t snitch in areas such as these, which did make it easier for Tim. Not that he could really find the time, nor effort, to reflect over such things... Being caught as a home intruder was the last thing on his mind as his feet hit the living area’s floor. His jeans were soggy and dripping water as his sneakers made wet squishy sounds, audible through the entire room as the noise of the rain, and howling winds, had been muted by the now closed window. 

It was quiet and there were no signs of life as he walked around. He dragged the water with him and found himself in the same hallway that the Hood had disappeared down after he’d patched Tim up last time. There were still books littering the apartment, but not much else. There were some shoes next to the door and a few pieces of outdoors clothing hanging by the rack. It wasn’t as torn down as Tim had thought in the dark the last time. There was crusted paintjobs covering many of the walls and the floorboards creaked as you walked over them, but otherwise it was a decent safe house. The Hood seemed to at least like it, considering that he had not moved. Not even after Tim had found out about its location. 

He pushed open a white door that stood ajar. It creaked as the opening slowly grew wider and the darkness in it was replaced by the low lights of the hallway. Tim felt for a light switch to his right as he stepped in. His fingers found it and there was a flicker before a steady light settled over the bathroom walls. It was what one would’ve expected. Floors with slightly yellow tiles and some light water damage on the tapestry. He hadn’t exactly expected to wander into the bathroom, but then again, he hadn’t expected for much at all, if he was being honest. His fingers itched to find information and when he could no longer contain himself, he started digging. He rummaged through the bathroom cupboard behind the mirror, ignoring the wreck of a person that was staring back at him. He found desyrel, silenor and lunesta; all sleeping drugs of different kinds. Under the sink he found nothing but a roach behind a bucket and some average toiletries.

He stood up from his crouched position and turned to walk out when he caught the sight of what he assumed to be a laundry basket. It was black and all other than unusual, but a white towel was poking out of it. It had dark brown stains all over it, patches of it smeared and covering the white surface. 

He stared for a second before slamming the bathroom door shut and walking out. He kicked one of the shoes in the hallway and watched as it tumbled over the other pairs before laying down, still. He slammed his fist into the closest wall with an infuriating scream that left his throat sore. 

How could he have ever been so stupid to trust the Hood. For the first time in forever, Stray had let down his guard, and now he was getting hell for it. He should’ve been more careful, he should’ve been _better._ The Hood was playing him, toying with him as if he was some stupid kid. And somehow, the fact that he _was_ getting played wasn’t what hurt the most.

There was a chime of keys rattling outside the door and it drew Tim out of his thoughts. He’d been staring at his hand that had broken a piece of the wall. It was pulsating furiscouly, but he couldn’t care less. The rattle of keys didn’t stop but instead grew into a click of a door unlocking. Tim let his hand fall down and stood staring at the door. As if behind that door his entire life would reveal itself to be a lie. But it couldn’t be…

The door opened and a foot appeared. One boot after the other stepped into the hallway and as Tim’s eyes traveled up, apparently so did the owner’s of the boots eyes. And once Tim was looking at the man in front of him, looking into the other’s eyes, he felt like he might just be dying.

It was Jason. 

The man in the door frame looked unnatural. He was stiff and small in a way that could only be described as a hurt animal. His eyes grew wide at the sight of Tim and his mouth opened as to say something, but nothing came out. 

There was a dreadful silence for several seconds while their eyes were allowed themselves to stare at the other. He’d grown so much that Tim felt like a midget next to him, something he hadn’t thought of next to the Hood. His slightly unproportionate body had grown into itself and molded into a grown man. His shoulders were broader, his lean muscles not as lean anymore, his hair just as black, except for one streak of hair. One piece that stood out from the rest, as if it was used to solitude. 

“Tim…” The silence was broken as Jason took a step forward. 

But Tim didn’t wait long till he was moving as well. He mimicked the other’s movement and stepped forward, but only to violently shove the other in the chest. Using both his hands he pushed Jason away and ignored it when his back hit the now closed door behind him. 

“You _fucking_ asshole.” He practically hissed between his clenched teeth and glared at the other, who seemed slightly taken aback - but he composed himself not long after by straightening and growing into his own size.

“I can explain.” Jason said a bit too calmly.

“No!” Tim shook his head and backed up, “No you can’t. You’re dead. Dead people don’t explain things.” He pointed an accusing finger at the man. “Dead people don’t do _shit_.” There was a grim snort and laughter at the end of his sentence.

“Tim…”

“Was this all just some dumb fucking joke? Lets see how long we can keep Tim in the dark? Did you grow tired of waiting and wanted to see if I’d realize it soon enough? Did you let Bruce in on this? Does he know that his little robin _isn’t_ six feet underground?!” he yelled and felt how his eyes were stretching, strained from holding back both sorrow and anger. 

“No…” Jason said in a low voice and looked down at the mess of shoes around his feet. “I can explain-”

 

“No, I _don’t want_ to hear about it.” Tim said and shook his head looking away and biting down on his own tongue, feeling close to hysterical with his thoughts racing alongside his heart beat. He hadn't’ expected for such a livid rage to devour him, but there it was. 

“You don’t?” Jason said in a slightly confused and hurt voice.

_Well he deserved it._

“No.” Tim turned around with an expressionless face, forcing his body to grow cold. “Because whatever you did, it doesn’t explain why you never told me who you were.” He did a full one-eighty and started walking towards the window that he’d entered earlier. He was hurt and even though his brain was craving answers he knew only Jason could provide, he couldn’t stand being there any longer - unless he wanted to completely break, something he couldn’t afford. He couldn't let himself fall apart like this again. He couldn’t believe this was real, nor that it was a dream. It was all just _nothing._

“Tim.” Jason’s hand wrapped around Tim’s wrist, but before it could reach around fully, Tim was yanking it away. He felt pannick struck at the thought of being kept there any longer, being held here and forced to listen to lies. Jason seemed to connect the dots and didn’t attempt to grab Tim again. 

But instead, now he was the one who walked ahead to the window and opened it. Tim could see how his skin was met with the heavy fire of rain that was practically deafening. He hadn’t thought that the rain would turn into a full storm, but from the looks of it, it was growing worse by the second. And before Tim got any chance to react, Jason was climbing out of the window. 

“What are you doing?” Tim said and looked over at Jason who was now halfway out of the frame, perched over a fifteen stories drop. 

“You don’t wanna have this talk here? Then we’ll do it old school.” was all he said before he was outside, drowned by the heavy rain and wind.

Tim ran over to the window, leaning out and staring at the figure who was now climbing up side of the building with the help of window sills and different pipes.

“Are you _insane!?_ ” Tim yelled to the figure above as his face was being attacked by the sharp rain. “You’re too heavy for that, you’ll fall!” But the figure did not answer him. Tim wasn't sure if he was ignoring him or that he just couldn’t hear over the weather. So he jumped out the window as well, holding the frame of it with his bony hands and letting his sneakers find footing against the wall. He grabbed for the closest bumped brick and started climbing up as well. He was faster than Jason, thanks to his petite form, and caught up with ease even as they were being attacked by mother nature. He squinted as he looked over at the figure who was grabbing for a rusty pipe. Tim hastily grabbed the other’s wrist just in time and replaced it to grab for a broken piece of brick instead. “You don’t even know how to climb your own building! Get down from here!” He yelled and pressed his own body flush against the wall as a strong wind made its way between the surrounding building, howling as it passed and tried to tear them both down. His shirt was waving furiously in the wind and it reminded Tim just how poorly equipped either of them were for this. If Jason fell, he would die and this time he would not come back. 

“Can’t! I wanna talk to you.” Jason yelled out over the noise with a sheep smile that forced an incredulous look over Tim’s own face.

He growled, “And this was the best place!?” 

“In retrospect, perhaps not.” Jason’s chuckle ebbed away.

With that and a heavy eyeroll, Tim pushed his way to the top, ignoring that his nails started bleeding from digging into the bricks and how his body was slightly shaking from the cold weather. Going down was twice as dangerous and they were further up so he just kept going. Once he threw himself over the edge, he laid down on the side of the building, half of his body leaning over the edge as he reached for Jason. He pulled the taller figure over the edge as well, feeling his muscles sear at the weight of it but did not stop. Panic struck him as the water made his grip slip but he dug his nails into it, ignoring the possibility to hurt the other and pulled. Bruises and claw marks were sure better than being turned into pulp by a drop from this height. Once Jason’s hips were over the ledge, Tim let go and allowed himself to collapse with heavy breathes on the floor. Not long after, so did Jason. 

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jason.” Tim said and coughed, trying his best to ignore the cold water that had drenched them both and was now making his jeans harder to move in. 

For a few seconds Tim didn’t think that Jason would answer and he was just about to turn and check on the body laying a few feet back when there was a voice growing.

“I made sure not to change that part so that’d you’d recognize me somewhat at least.” It said and Tim could practically hear the smirk that was put into it.

“It’s not _funny._ ” He hit the other in the side with his foot and glared, ignoring the feeling that there might just be a very low smile over his own face.

“It’s kinda funny.” 

And then silence. The rain didn’t stop and after having caught his breath again, Tim felt that it was all _enough._

“No it’s not.” He said with a sigh and pushed himself off the ground.

He got the idiot next to him back on his feet as well, before shooing him inside, avoiding any form of eye contact, walking through the rooftop door and down the stairs, back into the apartment. By the time they were both inside again, Tim was sitting at a kitchen stool and Jason leaning against the closest bench, they were both soaking wet and sniffling. There was a silence, once again, and Tim stared at his fingers that were tightly interlocked with each other. He wasn’t smiling anymore and somehow the atmosphere had changed once they’d entered the safe house again. He caught Jason looking over at the couch and wondered if he was thinking about that night that Tim had been occupying it. 

Then it hit him. Jason had been talking about _him_. His friend that he had left behind when he _moved away._ Well that was certainly a more pg-13 kind of version. Had he really been thinking of Tim all this time? Or did he perhaps just say that to win over Stray’s trust. It certainly was a sob story if he’d ever heard one. 

“So-”

“What happened to you?” Tim interrupted Jason who had awkwardly attempted to break the silence, which seemed to have been growing thicker with each breath the two of them let out. Without having realized it, the words had been on Tim’s tongue the whole time, waiting for a moment of the slightest distraction to just be blurted out.

Jason looked over him once before shifting his gaze back to the couch again. “I died.” He said with such simplicity that it was both a relief and very alarming. But when Tim gave him a grave look of disapproval, Jason took a deep breath to acknowledge that he knew it wasn’t enough of an answer. He shifted and leaned even further back against the counter that was across from Tim. His hands were seeking support by the table and he seemed to be searching for a way to start, which Tim couldn’t blame him for since he really didn’t know where this all started either. 

After a few thoughtful moments and Jason opening, closing and opening his mouth again, he spoke, “Bruce....” He inhaled as if the name caused something inside of him to quiver, but then settled again. “I told Batman that I wanted to go to Sarajevo to follow up on a lead about my birth mother... You could say that’s where it all started. Batman wasn’t against it, he just told me to wait..” he snorted. “Of course, I couldn’t do that.” There was a grim expression under the dry and harsh humor that Tim recognized a bit too much. “I’m sure you know about… You know, everything that happened there.” 

Tim knew. He knew every second of what the tapes had shown him, he knew every detail, every beating. All to evaluate if Jason could’ve survived it. He couldn’t have. But to satisfy the parts of him that craved answers, so badly his head was pounding, he kept quiet and nodded. It wasn’t exactly time to tell the other that he knew every inch of his death either. 

Jason crossed his arms and looked out over the kitchen. “It went dark…”, he said calmly. “So.... still.” 

Tim had to admit that out of everything that might happen when you die, this probably being one of the most likely things to happen, it scared him. A place where all there was, was nothing. He couldn’t imagine what it’d feel like, and he couldn’t understand what Jason was feeling. “Are you sure that you were… dead?” Tim asked, feeling like he was going insane from even uttering the words. Gotham was weird in many ways, fucked up in more than a few, but this was bad even for Gotham. 

“Yeah.” Jason nodded. “You just kind of know, it’s hard to tell how. But you do.” 

Tim felt a small knot form in his throat at the mere thought of it. Perhaps he should be more careful about how he moved through the city, considering that death did not seem like the most fun thing to get up to. 

“So if you did die,” Tim rubbed his tired eyes before looking back at Jason, “How are you here?” He asked gesturing to the entire complex they were standing and sitting in as he leaned back into his chair. He forced down that lump and ignored how it started forming at the pits of his stomach instead. 

Jason rubbed his face as well and sighed, “I honestly don’t know. It was dark one moment and then there was this other form of darkness instead. The worse kind, the real darkness. I woke up in the casket and got out of there, collapsed, and next thing I know: Talia al-Ghul is dipping me in the Lazarus Pit.” 

Tim stared. This was a lot to take in. Not only had Jason been dead and woken up, he’d also apparently gone to the Lazarus Pit and been there with Talia al-Ghul, daughter of Ra’s al-Ghul. Those were _not_ people you wanted to spend time near. Not even Stray. His mouth felt dry and his voice was close to pitiful once he spoke, “When was this?” 

He had to know how long Jason had been gone, how long he’d been in that void. How long he’d stayed away from Tim. He felt selfish for thinking of such things, but right now, he didn’t care

Jason shrugged, “Woke up the first time after about six months, the second time seemed to have been little more than a year later.” 

Something stabbed at the knot in Tim’s stomach and it was not a pleasant feeling. Jason had been alive eight years ago. Those were the worst years for Tim. It was right about then that he actually started understanding that _he_ was gone. He was dead and was not coming back. But he had been alive. He’d just chosen to not come back. He hadn’t bothered coming back. A part of Tim couldn’t blame Jason, considering that most of those awful things that had happened to him were in fact still in Gotham. The joker, his old family, Bruce, Batman, his past. It was all rooted in the heart of Gotham. But what about Tim? Wasn’t he enough to go back for? Had he not been enough to even call or send a letter?

Tension spread over Tim’s shoulder, the same tension that always grew when he was getting ready for a hit or fight that he knew was going to hurt. But why the fuck not? Scars were already being torn open like parcels at christmas. _Why the hell should he not do this?_

His eyes were glued on the table in front of him as he watched his vision go slightly dazed from tears, but then it was sharp again. He would need help for this, help from Stray. It was cheating and Tim knew it, but he didn’t care. 

“So, eight years.” Tim laughed at his own words in a cruel way that felt oddly satisfying“Eight damn years and you couldn’t pick up a phone.” he looked up. Jason had a guilty look to him when his eyes met Tim’s and he seemed to be grasping for words that he weren’t quite catching. 

“Tim I-”

“Eight _fucking_ years, Jason!” Tim yelled as he got up at such haste that the stool he’d been perched on, tipped over. “I spent years getting over your death! Hell, I wasn’t even over it when you stumbled back here in your new getup. And even _then_ you couldn’t say anything!” He gestured at Jason who was wearing a leather jacket and army boots. All very similar to the Red Hood’s armor. How dumb was he to wander the streets like that? “Do you have any idea the pain you’ve caused people here?” He spat. Tim may not have liked Bruce, but the man was a father. He’d mourned, he’d been broken. Alfred Pennyworth had been broken. Dick Grayson had been broken. _The city had been broken._

Jason expression did not, however, do what Tim had expected. Tim had expected guilt to wash over him, as to what Tim had been trying to conjure, but instead there was an anger awoken inside of the other that hadn't been a part of the conversation earlier. Morbidly enough, Tim liked that. He needed something to take out his own anger on, and if that was an angry Jason, it was better than the regular. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jason warned Tim between gritted teeth and stood up straight from his place against the counter, crossing his arms. 

“No?” Tim pushed it and walked around the counter he’d been sitting at. “ _I_ don’t know? No, I’m sure _you_ must know better, of course. It wasn’t like I was here, or that I had to live through it.” he let out a cruel laugh and shook his head. 

“Tim…” Jason’s voice was warning him to stop, but Tim didn’t care. 

“It wasn’t like _I_ had to take care of this city when _you_ were gone. It wasn’t like _I_ had to keep an eye on an adult fucking man that was morning his brother.”

“Tim…”

 

“It wasn’t like _I_ had to wake up, _every single day_ , knowing that _you_ were gone and _you_ were not coming back!”

“Shut up!” Jason growled at him and slammed his hand on the counter next to him. 

Now, all grown up, Jason was twice the size of Tim. But no way in hell was that going to scare him. If Jason wanted to play the big guy card, then fine. But Tim wasn’t going to play along because of that. He wasn’t that dumb little brat with a camera anymore. He was _Stray_. He was the one who’d been left to take care of the worst when Jason was gone. Sure he wasn’t all goody two shoes when it came to the way he made his earnings, but damn it if he hadn’t looked after Gotham and taken care of her inhabitants to the best of his abilities. 

“No!” Tim barked back and invaded Jason’s own private space by pushing the man in the chest. “Get real Jason! You had _eight_ years!” He struck again. “Eight fucking years and _nothing!_ ” 

“Gotham isn’t my responsibility!” Jason shoved back, and the fact that he was holding back only made Tim angrier. 

“But what about _me!_ ” Tim used all of his power and strength to shove Jason back. 

The taller man stumbled and hit the kitchen counter and sink behind him, holding himself upright with his hands as he looked at Tim with confused eyes. 

“ _I was still here_!” Tim sobbed, feeling disgusted by his own reaction to this all. Stray didn’t cry. James didn’t cry. The only one who cried was Tim. Just a dumb kid who couldn’t do anything except complain and cry. “I was _here_ and _I missed you!_ ” Yelling the words with such a painful glare felt absurd. 

But it was true. He’d missed Jason so much he wasn’t sure if he would make it some days. He’d even considered if he would be one of those people who died from a broken heart. Perhaps he could’ve been the youngest in the world to have ever done that. Jason had been gone and Tim had been left with no one, had it not been for Selina, Tim doubted he’d even be standing there in Jason’s safe house. He doubted that he’d even be walking the earth still. Parts of him wondered if it’d been better do die from a broken heart, go out with dignity and love for another, than turn into that pit of misery for all those years. 

“Tim…” Jason reached out his hand and Tim backed away immediately. 

“Don’t touch me.” He said, more calmly but his eyes still venomous. “And stop saying my name.” 

“But I don’t know what to do!” Jason exclaimed, looking desperate as he searched for words. “I fucked up Tim, I fucked up _bad_!” He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “I couldn’t just walts back in here.” 

“Why not?” Tim asked incredulously. 

“It’s not that easy, I was _dead._ ” Jason looked as if there was something nagging at him, something he wasn’t saying or didn’t know how to.

“But you came back!” Tim almost pleaded and tried to find an explanation that would hurt just a bit less than the fact that Jason just didn’t seem to care. 

“I know, but…” 

“But _what_ , Jason!?” Tim yelled, his whole body shaking.

“I don’t know if I can catch you this time, Tim!” He shot back in a voice so desperate, angry and scared that it forced some of the air out of Tim’s lungs. 

“Catch me?” Tim said confused and searched Jason’s face. “What do you mean?” 

Jason stuttered, he started twisting and turning from where he was standing. “I… You told me, when we were little, that you weren’t afraid of falling... because _I_ would catch you.” Jason sighed and his shoulder hung slack, eyes glued to any surface that wasn’t Tim. When he spoke again it was close to a whisper, “I don’t know if I’ll catch you this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The overall support for this has been amazing! Thank you guys so much!! This is a lot of angst and all, but I promise!!! NExt chapter will have some wholesome moments for you!
> 
> (Also, I know I’m evil with these cliffhangers, sorry:D)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch did this take long to finish, but HERE it IS.
> 
> I’m just warning you guys that this chapter does contain NSFW content. 
> 
> It’s a rollercoaster of a chapter and I hope you enjoy it!

Thunder had never been something that scared Tim. It was after all a natural phenomenon and made total sense in the world of science and understanding of the universe. So when it suddenly struck outside of the windows surrounding Jason’s apartment - made the now very dark living complex flash into life, rumble through the creaks of the walls and floor, Tim was surprised to find himself jump at it. His head flew to the closest window and his eyes were slightly dilated as he took in another shot of fierce lightning. The outer parts were raging and Tim would’ve been worried about the electricity, hadn’t it been that he was in the midst of a conversation he never thought he’d find himself in. Consequently, the window his head had snapped at was the one behind Jason and the sink that he’d been leaning up again, which made it hard to not return to that passive form of staring that he’d been holding for the past… time. Jason’s eyes were finally meeting his, most likely because Tim had jumped at the storm’s sudden raging, and the feelings reflecting in them made something inside of Tim twist horrendously. 

If Tim had to describe that feeling, make some dumb metaphor or so, he’d say it was like the midst of emergency medicine. He wasn’t a doctor, nurse or anything of the sort. But he had taken basic training in first aid and how to deal with all kinds of damage his body might sustain. 

And if the body were to be put through some sort of trauma that’d caused a massive bleed of a major limb, such as the leg or arm, then you’d have to stop it. One way to do so it to take a string or piece of fabric, tie it right above the wound, place a stick or pen between the cloth and limb, and then twist. With each turn the rod rotates it will cut off the blood flow and force the bleeding to slow down. Tim had done it a couple of times - even did it to Selina once, but he’d never expected to use it as a metaphor for his _feelings._ But as Jason looked at him with weary eyes and shifting posture, it felt like that rod was twisting mercilessly. And not around a single limb, it was around his heart, his soul, his very existence. 

How was it fair? How could Tim lay out years of pain, questions and anger, all to have it slaughtered by one single sentence from the man in front of him. He wanted to keep being mad, he wanted to get it all out, wanted to blame Jason for everything that had happened. But he just couldn’t. 

Tim took a deep breath and ignored the next flash that came through behind Jason. Instead he focused on those teal eyes that he now realised hadn’t changed at all. Much may have changed. Jason may have grown into his own body structure. He might have made some _questionable_ fashion choices regarding clothes and hair. But his eyes were the same… And his humor was still shitty and inappropriate, thinking back to the rooftop. 

But it was still him. Letting his ridiculous thoughts get the best of him, just to keep those close to him from hurting. _An idiot_.

And then there was something else wrenching inside of him. But it wasn't the same. It wasn’t like a medical procedure, nor was it torturous. It actually wasn’t wrenching at all. Somehow it feel like something broke, but in a good way. As if there was something inside of him, fighting and fighting, refusing to believe and refusing to see anything other than that it was all a lie. But all of a sudden that knot in his stomach broke apart. Bursted. As if his body had been waiting and waiting for when he was ready, and when he never was, he surrendered to it. He surrendered, letting it break, and there was a flood of _life_ coursing through him. It hurt. God, it hurt so bad. Life _hurt_. But it was such nice pain that Tim wasn’t sure what to do other than smile. A low, barely there, crook at the corners of his lips. 

“Uh… Tim?” Jason leaned forwards, looking into Tim’s eyes, he looked even more worried than before as his fingertips left the bench behind him to step one bit closer. And then Tim realized that he was crying. Not sniffling or bawling, there was just tears there, staining his cheeks and falling down to the floor in front of him. 

He didn’t hesitate. He fell, and he fell right into Jason. Wrapping his arms tightly around the man, nonconsensually burying his face in the other’s chest. He felt how the other grew tense as a wall and awkwardly stood with his arms slightly aloft to not touch, or move. Tim didn’t care. He dug his hands into the fabric covering Jason’s back and felt how his shoulders started shaking. He accepted it. He accepted that this… This was real. He wasn’t dreaming and Jason was _alive_. Jason… So massive and strong and yet so fragile at the edges. 

“Hug me back you idiot.” Tim mumbled between a sniffle into the shirt that his face was pressing up against. 

It took a few more seconds before Jason hesitantly put a single hand between Tim’s narrow shoulders. Then another. And slowly, the larger man relaxed and Tim could hear a smile as he spoke, “I don’t remember you being this demanding?”

At that, Tim chuckled before effortlessly kicking Jason’s shin, “Shut up.” His sneakers didn’t help as they were all but strong or hard, and his foot ended up missing more than hitting anything. In his defense, he was tired as it was already. 

“You’d think you’d learnt to kick or punch with all these years…” Jason teased again and earned himself a right jab in the gut, this time a bit harder to emphasize the fact that Tim was most definitely in the perfect position to ruthlessly attack if he felt like it. “Guess Catwoman gave you some claws, huh?” The deep voice chuckled and had Tim snorting into the shirt that he felt way to comfortable up against. 

“Can you ever just shut up?” Tim sighed, but there was a fondness there. This was similar to the boy that Tim grew to love. His best friend, Jason.

“Afraid not. And what’s up with that by the way?” Jason continued and Tim groaned before pulling back from the hug, giving Jason an exasperated look. “I die for ten years and you become some freakish BDSM dominatrix?” There was a teasing tone and a smug look plastered over his face, not bothering to cover the facetious and highly inappropriate remarks. “I feel like you have just as much explaining to do as me, if not more.” He grinned and Tim couldn’t help but let on a small smile. He guessed he was right in one way or another. Somehow, it felt like the night would be long.

\---

Jason grabbed two slightly broken glasses from one of the cupboards of the kitchen and then a bottle of brandy from another. With the two glasses pinched between two of his fingers and the other hand holding the alcohol, he stopped at the large arch that served as an indicator where the kitchen ended and the living room began. He leaned against one side of it and observed in silence as Tim padded around the room, poking and prodding gently at a few of his books, scanning the mounts of paper scattered over the small coffee table next to the couch. He watched as a the shorter man’s eyebrows inched closer, creating a low frown as he concentrated, but then it broke and his eyebrows raised. His head shot up and towards the kitchen, his eyes found Jason’s after a bit of adjusting and a small smirk spread across his face when he held up the paper.

“English lit?” He gave a low laugh and then scanned the paper again. “I thought I’d be looking at notes about Scarecrow.”

Jason huffed and let on a low smile, one he realized he hadn’t been wearing for a long time. It was so casual and friendly that it felt malplaced on his face. But he didn’t feel obliged to remove it either… “Yeah, well, if anyone knows the life of many identities, I guess that’d be you.” He placed the glasses on the table together with the bottle, pushing the papers aside, before falling back on the couch with a low thud. 

Tim snorted and sat down on the other end of the couch. He pulled his feet off the ground and crossed his legs. He was wearing some of Jason’s old clothes. A pair of grey sweats that hung low at his waist and a _massive_ shirt. It was navy blue and even though it was a t-shirt, it reached down to Tim’s forearms, also revealing his collarbones and parts of his shoulders. Jason couldn’t wholeheartedly say that he hadn’t thought about that when he picked out the clothes from his closet, but he blamed it on the fact that sweats were more comfortable than the pair of the too small jeans he had laying at the back of his closet. There really was no time for admiring Tim’s body in Jason’s clothes though, so he threw away those thoughts to start talking. He, himself, was wearing a similar outfit. But his sweatpants were black and so was the t-shirt he chose to wear. It was way better fitted than Tim’s though, since it was actually his own size. 

“So, where were we?” He said as he reached forward to start pouring generous amounts into each of the glasses, taking the one with the largest chip for himself and handing the less damaged one to Tim. 

They’d taken a well needed break in the storm of their conversation to get into dry clothes and to breathe better. Let the boulders of shock and feelings, that had been resting heavy on both their chests, be sculpted down, downsized into something more controllable, less painful. The storm outside continued, however, raging on full speed, thunder rumbling every now and then. But it wasn’t as soul crushing in the silence any longer. It felt a bit easier. It all felt a bit easier.

Tim eyed the glass with skepticism but then shrugged and leaned back into the seat, cradling in between his hands. “Something about BDSM.” He snickered, putting the glass’ tip to his lips. His face twisted into something bitter when he swallowed, and he close to glared down at the glass when he pulled back. “God, this is gross.”

Jason laughed and shook his head with a soft fondness that also felt slightly malplaced. It felt strange. Like a stranger you’d met a few times, but never really invited in. Perhaps he should… He took a sip of it by himself. “Brandy really can’t win with you.” 

“What do you mean?” Tim said and looked up from the glass he was slowly swirling. 

“You complained about it last time too.” Jason said and used the hand with his glass to point at the couch they were sitting on. “Really, you’ve gotten preppier since I left.” He teased with a low smirk, followed by a large gulp of alcohol. There was no avoiding this conversation now and no matter the amounts of shitty jokes and inappropriate comments, they had to actually _talk_. Talking was tender. It was fragile. Jason wasn’t gentle with words… Words scared him more than fists ever could. 

Tim’s eyes stayed resting over the couch for a couple of seconds and Jason could see when it dawned on him what he was insinuating. He watched as the memories of that night flashed through his eyes, just as it did in his own mind. They were mirrored in an ocean like ripples of a single drop. But then they were gone and Tim shrugged. “At least I’ve got whole glasses. Ever heard of Ikea, Jason?” His smile was low and didn’t quite reach his eyes as he spoke. His finger traced idly over the glass’ tip and Jason _wished_ he could be drowned in those circles. To just stop the talking and allow himself and Tim to fall into comfortable silence. But no. Comfortable silence demanded comfort and trust. Both which seemed to be lacking in their atmosphere. 

He pursed his lips and took a deep breath, trying to come up with a way to once again dive into their earlier conversation. It was harder than he thought. So he resorted to downing the entire glass and then refilling it. When in doubt, turn to alcohol. _Great job Jason._

“I think it’s your turn.” Jason said with the pinch of his brow from the drink, focusing on refilling rather than to look at the person next to him. 

Tim went quiet for a bit and in Jason periphery he watched the boy chew his bottom lip. After some tender moments of most likely precisely chosen thoughts, he nodded, as if he was agreeing with his own thoughts. “Okay, fair enough.” He shifted slightly taking a deep breath. 

For this, Jason leaned back to watch the other. There were too many questions to _not_ watch as the other explained. Too many question that forced him to shut the hell up as Tim opened his mouth. To not just sputter out words that’d hit the other like a bomb. It was an itch on his brain, but he told himself that answers were on their way. All he had to do was sit back, and listen. 

“Where should I start?” Tim asked, taking another sip, this time not grimacing as much. 

“Well, you could start with the whole latex gettup, like, what the fuck Tim?” Jason said and gestured to the other’s body even though he wasn’t wearing it now. 

Tim just rolled his eyes and grasped for word as he leaned against the couch. He was sitting sideways, facing Jason, leaning to his left. After some thoughtful silence, he opened his mouth, “When you died…” He scanned Jason’s face with some sort of insecurity attached to the word, as if it was a loaded gun. But when Jason showed no indication that he was affected, he continued, worries behind his eyes withering just an inch. “I was being placed in the system at the time, it didn’t play out to be the best. Big surprise, I know.” He made a mock raise of his eyebrows, an edge to the humor that was familiar in many ways. “But then Catwoman found me.” He continued, eyes leaving Jason again. Eyes traveling to watch something else, something that wasn’t there. A gaze into a memory, perhaps. 

This was something that baffled Jason. _Catwoman_ had taken in a stray kid. Perhaps it wasn’t so uncharacteristic, but for all Jason knew, she was just a skillful thief that Bruce liked to spend the darker hours with every now and then. He’d never known her true identity, nor what she was _really_ like. No one was truly the same in _and_ out of suit. Except maybe Bruce… But Tim surely nailed that rule to the board of logic. Thinking back to their previous encounters and to think that it had been _Tim_. Jason wasn’t sure if the erratic heartbeats that followed that thought were good or bad. 

So maybe Catwoman was a lot more color as well. Shades that Jason hadn’t had time to see, nor been allowed to. Maybe she was someone completely different in her civilian skin. 

But Jason chose not to comment, instead Tim continued talking, Jason continued listening. He told Jason about how it’d been rocky at first. How Tim had not wanted to get close to her but had been dying to learn something, be something else, be _better._ Catwoman had offered him another life - nine in fact. Nine brand new lifes that he had been allowed to do whatever he wished with. And he’d taken it. Tim told Jason about his first big heist and how he’d almost been caught by Batman, but instead made the dark knight run into a trap that brought up some hilarious imagery in Jason’s mind. 

It wasn’t like the Gotham villains’ traps. 

No, Stray had somehow orchestrated a truly hilarious backup plan, where the Bat ran into a trap, causing him to be thrown around and dangle from a rope that was snaked around his ankles. Jason could barely contain his laughter and doubled over at it. Hand slapping his thigh in pure glee. He even felt a wetness at the corners of his eyes by the time he straightened up again. 

Tim smiled proudly at that part, with an excited, close to, grin on his face. 

He told Jason about how he and Selina only grew closer after that and how she ended up becoming a sort of mother to him. How he moved into her safe houses already from the start, but then actually started feeling at home in them. 

He told Jason about when he developed the James persona to keep people from drawing conclusions to his all over the city appearances, and weird schedules. How he used James as a cover to be himself when Tim had to act as a study motivated kid, who spent very little time together with other thoughts. How James had been more Tim than Tim at times. How he made friends through that version of himself and that he used it as a tool for a somewhat normal life when he felt the skyscrapers pulling him just a bit too high. An anchor of normality. 

By the end of it, Jason had to say he was impressed. Not only had Tim made a name for himself as Stray, and gotten such and incredulous control through only the shadows, but he had also kept up with collage after having graduated high school _early._

In all honest, Jason had no idea how he’d pulled it off. And he felt like asking would bring not only one headache in trying to wrap his head around it.

“Still doesn’t explain the whip.” Jason resorted to a low smirk and shrug, leaning back. He hadn’t even realised how his body had traveled into a stance of wild engulfment as he’d listened. His elbows had been resting on his knees and head tilted to catch all movements, all gestures, all expressions. 

Tim’s smile twisted and became corrupted, very similar to that characteristic smirk that Stray wore. “What can I say,” He tilted his head and swirled the remaining beverage in his hand before finishing it. “Some people do grow up, indifferent from you Jason.” 

Jason made an indignant huff but chuckled, unable to cover the low smile that was creeping at the corners of his lips. 

No matter the amount of latex, sardonic humor, mischievous and suggestive smiles, it was clear that the pieces fitted the puzzle. It was Tim. That disgustingly smart and too grown up kid that Jason had goofed over for way too long.

“Yeah, sure thing short stack.” Jason felt the low buzz of alcohol circulating his system, only lacing his words the slightest in the forms of them moving a bit more fluently than perhaps sober words would. 

Tim snorted loudly and tipped his curled up body weight into Jason’s side in protest before bouncing back. His arms loosely wrapped around his knees as he held the glass between his fingers. “Hey, not all of us can look like every high school jock ever.” 

Jason couldn’t help but look down to Tim who was vastly closer than he’d remembered. Maybe it was just from his full body jab when he tipped over? It had to be, because Jason hadn’t noticed him moving closer before. 

He stood grabbing Tim’s glass from his lithe hands, ignoring the half glare, half pout, that he shot him. 

“God, don’t tell me you’re a lightweight.” He groaned, amusement seeping into it without hesitation. He heard how Tim sauntered after him into the kitchen. 

“Don’t offend me Jason.” His voice was light but also rolling in a way that _did_ give him away, telling Jason that he was at least somewhat affected. “Tell me you’ve got coffee here.” Tim’s footsteps stopped.

Jason turned after having placed the glasses in the sink. He was sitting on top of the kitchen counter, feet swaying in the air as he looked around, twisting his torso to take in the whole of the room. They were almost at the exact same place that they’d been in earlier. Jason just barely leaning against the kitchen sink. Tim on the other side at the counter. But the atmosphere was nothing like the one before. The dull patter of rain was nowhere near as intense in its attention, and the thunder was more of a grumble than a roar. 

“Yeah, just…” Jason made a show of dusting off his hands as he turned around. “Just let me find it…”

“You don’t drink coffee? How can you _not_ drink coffee?”

“I do, I just prefer tea.”

“God, you’re weird.”

“Says the guy with a cat latex suit.”

“Says the guy who was dead.”

Jason turned to look at Tim with wide eyes. It didn’t seem to have caught up to him before the words were out of his mouth and once he realised what he’d actually said, the eyes that had been trailing along the kitchen sluggishly were thrown up to stare at Jason. Wide eyes with an almost fearful expression behind them. 

“Too soon?” He said with a sheepish smile that looked close to pained in the force he was putting into it. 

Jason couldn’t help it. Laughter bubbled out of him for the second time that evening, and he _just couldn’t help it_. It felt so good that it was painful. His abs churned in recognition of the sensation. His cheeks stretched and hurt. Pain that could only be described as good. Pain that was welcomed. 

He waved Tim off sluggishly before returning to his butler-like services of preparing coffee for his… guest? Friend? Partner? He honestly wasn’t sure what was going on in their relationship. But it was nice. It felt natural. 

For a while the only sound that occupied their space was the muted rain, hum of the kettle, clinking of mugs and teaspoons. The pouring of hot water and stirring of cheap and mediocre instant coffee. When Jason was starting to debate whether or no he should say something to get the conversation going again, Tim beat him to it. 

He was still on the bench but was now holding a cup of steaming coffee. Jason was leaning against the opposite bench.

“So…” He began and blew some of the steam away from his cup, only for it to be replaced a second later. “Ten years of presumed death being wiped away by a couple of hours that not only told me that you _were_ in fact alive. I have apparently also met you. Robbed an art gala with you. Slept on your couch. And kissed you. I can with certainty say that I did _not_ see this coming.” Tim’s smile was low when he took his first sip, eyes flickering over to Jason and then back to the cup.

Jason used one hand to hold the mug and the other crossed his chest as he too blew at the steam. “Yeah, we should sell the rights to hollywood and get out of here.”

Tim snorted with a low laugh as he stirred the cup, “Yeah, that’d be the dream wouldn’t it?” 

Jason couldn’t help but pick up on the underlying message that buried deep beneath his words. His voice was barely tinted with sadness, but it was enough for the trained eye to pick up. For one, he couldn’t blame Tim. It wasn’t like the all kinds of fucked up weren’t screwing with his head as well. A vacation to Aruba or god damn Russia would sit nice right about now. Anything but Gotham. 

But then there was the gravitational pull that kept them both there. Right where they were. In Gotham. Home? He guessed that might be the easiest and most corrupted form of explanation. 

But damn if they couldn’t just get _one_ night off. No. He refused to let Gotham dig her claws into them even in moments such as this. They deserved this much. They _deserved_ shitty coffee talks late at night. They deserve that piece of privacy. That piece of peace. 

Before he knew it his cup was placed down onto the bench behind him and he took two strides, finding himself in front of Tim. He placed both hands on either sides of the other’s legs and leaned into his personal space. His head bent, searching for Tim’s face that was looking down. 

He caught it in a twist of sorrow, pain and worry. It made something twist inside of Jason, something that he felt shouldn’t twist. 

“Hey.” He said in an oddly tender voice that almost surprised himself. “When the whole Scarecrow thing is over, let’s get out of here.” 

Tim’s face twisted into one of confusion, eyebrows pinching and head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “What?” 

“Not like _forever_.” Jason rolled his eyes in search for the right words, wishing that they could just convey into Tim’s mind without vocalisation. “But like… Just go on a trip or something. Catch up.” He grinned. “A dumb road trip or flight to Hawaii may not make up for ten years- maybe Vegas would, but nevertheless, it’d be nice. You know. Get to know each other again.”

Tim stared at him for several long lived moments. Moments that stretched into far too long ones for Jason’s confidence. It allowed it to fray at the ends and begin to crumple. Perhaps that’s what pulled Tim out of the zone, but suddenly he was laughing. His eyes crinkled and teeth baring when he smiled. 

It was so captivating that it made Jason stare. He watched as the ripple of laughter took over his face. And what it did to Jason’s body was unfair as hell. It made something in his chest grow, bruise his ribs and blossom. It flourished in the sound of Tim’s laughter and it made him so much more aware of the memories they’d shared, unknown to each other’s identities. 

How they’d danced together. 

How they’d teased each other.

How they’d talked to one another. 

How they’d entrusted so much in the other. 

How Stray had made his heart clench.

How Tim’s eyes were even brighter up close. 

How Tim’s eyes sparkled in the shitty kitchen light. 

How Tim’s eyes grew so much in depth that Jason once again felt that pull. That compass-like feeling that sent him reeling but pulled him in the right direction anyway. 

“Sure.”

Jason mentally shook himself out of his daze - or down to earth at least, and stared a little more presently. “Huh?”

“Sure, we can go on a trip. All I require is Wifi and coffee.” Tim’s smile was amused, albeit just as genuine. 

“Really? Thought you’d be clinging to your next college essay or heist.” Jason said with a low smirk.

Tim _vissibly_ cringed at the words, arms shuddering and shoulder rolling up to his ear. His eyes squeezed shut with a frown. “Oh god, no. I think there’d be a joint suicide attempt inside my brain if I did that. I’m _exhausted_.” He sighed.

“Dito.” Jason nodded with a low sigh and let his head fall between his shoulders. 

He’d forgotten about his essay for next week. God, it was all so fucked up. 

“Hey?” Tim’s voice pulled his head back up, like a puppeteer tugging a string, all effortless but with much success. When Jason met his eyes they were still amused. “Don’t you dare think about college work right now. I’m still processing the lack of rotten flesh and all that.” He waved a hand over Jason’s body. 

“You do get how morbid our lives are, right?” Jason cocked an eyebrow, but there was amusement in his own voice as well. 

“Gonna have to work with what we have I guess.” Tim shrugged before turning his head to stare at the wall. 

It took Jason far too long before he realized that he was looking at the clock. Well it was late, so there was his excuse. But he would gladly give that excuse up for just one more moment, to _not_ hear those words-

“Probably should be going.” 

And there they were. Jason felt how he internally deflated, his soul going slack at the fact. It didn’t feel like enough. As if there was just not enough time to take it all in. It surely wasn’t enough time for Jason’s eyes to bask in Tim’s up close. 

“But then again, probably should be doing a lot of things.” 

“You’re so annoying, oh my god.” Jason groaned foundly and looked to see the thief that was his childhood friend grinning. 

“You know, I’ve been told.” He said thoughtfully.

“Can’t imagine why.” Jason teased and flicked a finger at Tim’s shoulder.

Which he now, for the first time, acknowledge was extremely close. It wasn’t even covered properly by Jason’s shirt. White and fair skin peaked through. Tim’s clavicles on full display. His slender shoulder blending perfectly with the nape of his neck and throat that reach up to a sharp jawline. Overgrown hair curled at the begging of his neck, a stark contrast of black and white. Strands of raven hair, that flowed and curled at the tips, fell over his eyes. The depths of the sea peaking through.

“I could think of one thing you could be doing.” Jason’s voice was lower when he spoke, his own dull eyes pinning palettes of infinites of shades of blue. 

The low clinker of porcelain gently tapping the bench was almost missed and just barely made it to his brain. 

The jests were gone and Tim’s face held something else now. He looked almost tentative in the way his eyes traveled Jason’s face. So afraid that maybe misreading could lead to  
miscommunication, mishappenings. “And what’s that?” Tim’s voice was also lower. There was an inkling of a purr, almost a ghost of it, that trickled after his words. Not quite catching up. Not quite allowed to either. 

But Jason didn’t stop for it to catch up. Just the fact that it was trying to was enough to set his action into gear. He moved before his mind could register and without thoughts of repercussion, the past, the present, or the future, he kissed Tim. 

It was hesitant and not like the kiss they’d shared at the art gala. It wasn’t in the moment. It was the phantom of a past kiss that kicked a longing into an action. 

Jason could feel how both their bodies tensed at the sudden contact, neither prepared nor quite expectant. Brains unable to catch up to the movements that had not been cleared to pass. But then Jason felt how two unsteady hands began to ascend, a path from his elbows, up to his neck, gingerly stroking their way up to his hair, and fingers burying themselves there, growing steadier. And with each inch of skin that they passed, it toned down his inner schock, wiped away the hesitant and bickering thoughts. Did not care of repercussions. Only the fact that Tim was melting into his arms and pushing closer. 

And that was enough to get Jason moving. 

His hands let go of the cold kitchen counter to snake around a slim waist, his fingers digging into the fabric whilst assisting their closing distance to minimize it even further. And as if Tim could read his mind, he wrapped his legs around Jason’s hips, hauling closer. 

The kiss went from hesitant, shy and uncertain, to provocative, fierce and strong in a moment that stretched for so long, but most certainly only lasted about a second. What was a soft and gentle brush of lips spiked, and when Jason pushed, so did Tim. Their lips met to dance, rhythm growing strong and it wasn’t long till Jason felt the invitation of parting lips against his. He didn’t wait, instead followed suit. The kiss grew deeper, tongues brushing against each other, invading each other’s space. 

Each new sensation that came sent a bolt of fire through Jason’s veins. The beating inside his ribcage was strong as ever, but null and barely recognizable through the strong beating in his own ears. He was sure the whole neighbourhood must hear his heart, but he didn’t care. 

_Fuck, hook it up to a speaker if you want to._

Hands began to travel and Jason’s fingers found the inbetween of skin and fabric. He stroked past the waistline of sweat pants to feel warm and soft skin under his fingertips. When he brushed past the area of sensitive skin that stretched over Tim’s lower abdomen, the boy sucked in a quick breath. One that Jason caught, and used to bite his lower lip. The low rumble of a moan slipped from Tim’s throat and it was just everything Jason’s ears ever wanted to hear. 

His fingers hooked around Tim’s waist and blunt nails scraped into the skin. With a closer feel of the skin, it wasn’t perfect. There were plenty of small bumps and strokes, a variety of scars that differed in depth, shape and size. But all it did to Jason was creating the imagine of ripping the shirt to shreds, all to get a peak of how Tim actually looked shirtless. 

Tim’s finger dug deeper into his roots and fisted the short locks, tugging at it. It felt more like a subconscious move, a reaction to the large hands that were exploring his body blindly. Jason groaned at it, licking against Tim. They struggled finding a rhythm, finding that push and pull. They both were eager to push, to dominate. But after slip ups and messy kisses, something settled. It wasn’t perfect, but at least it wasn’t erratic. 

Tim’s hips rolled against Jason’s as he arched his back, Jason’s hand going directly for the firmest ass he’d ever felt. He squeezed and pushed their bodies closer, flush together, every bit of frustration pushing for relief. 

Tim released a short lived breath which hitched when their pelvises grinded together causing his head throw back. An open invitation that Jason waited no time in enjoying. He kissed down Tim’s jaw, over the sensitive area below his ear, down his throat and over his shoulder.

Hitched breaths and low moans escaped Tim’s throat, head tilting just a little more to the left. 

He tasted of the storm outside with a tinge of sweat. It felt _so_ good. Tasted _so_ good. Jason rasped his teeth over his shoulder, biting, tugging, licking, abusing the fair and yet tainted skin. Then he pulled back. There was the low whine of displeasure from the man in front of him, which he only milked for a second, allowing himself to smirk. Then he started tugging at the oversized shirt. Tim got the hint and immediately began clawing for it to disappear. In a not so graceful fashion, they tugged it over Tim’s head, only for lips to meet and clash directly after. Teeth knocking together and tongues licking for anchoring. Staying grounded through each other, through the kisses, through the tastes and sounds. It didn’t take long for Jason to huff disapprovingly at the setting. He grabbed around Tim’s thighs, pulling him off the bench. 

There was a low yelp of surprise which had Jason smirking, till Tim bit his lower lip in retaliation, pulling and sucking at it relentlessly. The road to the bedroom was bumpy and nothing short of messy. Tim’s arms hooked over his neck, fingers digging and scraping against his scalp. When Jason stumbled and hit Tim’s back against the wall, the shorter one waited no time in pulling Jason’s hair for it. Jason evened the score by pushing Tim further against the wall, eyebrows furrowed in concentrated pleasure, a rumbling of muffled moans digging at the bottom of his throat. 

Tim’s hands explored. They clawed at his back, blunt nails scraping and hooking into him. 

His steps grew antiser. He stumbled into the bedroom. All thoughts of logic, precaution or doubt were wiped away by Tim’s tongue. He pushed down the smaller man on the bed, digging his thumbs into his hips as he half straddle the other. One leg still half standing, the other between Tim’s legs. Tim let out low whimpers of pleasure that sent a current of _need_ through Jason’s own body. Crackling under his skin, sending a tidal wave through his mind. 

And then there was a _knock._

Tim’s mind sobered up to Jason displeasure and he hoped for it to stop, to go away. But it didn’t, it was insistent. On going. Unbreaking. Pulling them both out of their hypnotic state of mind. It was like a bucket of reality dousing them, and it was not nice. Jason grumbled pulling up from his place, pointedly ignoring the low snickers Tim let out. 

“What!?” He growled throwing the front door open, startling the guy who was standing outside. He jumped, almost dropping the objects occupying his hands. He looked like a scrawny teen, lost in the depths of the city. Had it not been for his uniform then perhaps Jason would’ve been worried for him. 

“Are you…” He looked down at the small note in his hand. “Peter Jonson?” He looked up, way too uncertain in his posture, forcing Jason to calm. 

“Yeah, so?” 

“Your pizza.” The boy held out a cardboard box. And true to his words, it was a pizza.

“I didn’t order.” Jason said blankly, annoyed eyes fixing the worker. He looked even more antsy by the fact and began scrambling through the notes of receipts. Before he could even open his mouth to begin a well foretold ramble, Jason threw the door in his face. 

He trudged back to the bedroom, leaning heavily on the frame to stare at Tim who was lazily lying on the bed. He looked too fucking smug for his own good.

Tim laughed. Jason groaned. He fell down onto the bed, head falling down over the smaller man’s shoulder, burying itself in the nook of skin and pillows. It smelled of the familiar bedsheets with an overlay of rain and hints of alcohol. The strongest scent was, however, Tim. Tim who smelled of coffee, warmth, safety and familiarity. After all these years, it still held that subtle laundry detergent spice that mixed with long nights and just… _Tim._

“Rain check?” Tim’s voice trailed as his hands began to stroke and comb through his hair. Jason couldn’t help but relax to the feel of it. Instead of articulating his answer he grunted with a low huff, that most likely tickled Tim’s neck because his head rolled to the side with a shortened and cut off snort.

“Jason,”

“Hmmm?”

“You know what you said before? About falling.”

Jason didn’t answer. He felt his blood grow colder by the thought of it. Drugs of kisses wearing off. Reality crawling back. Aches growing steadier. Heart pounding heavier. 

“I know you’re worried. Uncertain.” Tim continued anyway, voice light and fingers still gentle. Each touch thought out and precise. Fingers melting against silken hair. “But things have changed. _I_ have changed. I’m not that kid with a camera anymore. I’ve trained for so many years that it’s kind of hard to be scared anymore.” His fingers raked through hair, combing gently and curiously. “So as long as you’re here, and _not_ six feet under ground,” He let out a half hearted snort. “Then please don’t worry for me” 

Jason wasn’t sure he could answer to it. So all he did was let out a low hum of acknowledgement. Because he knew Tim would pick up on it.

And for feeling the most alive in such a long time. The energy of life buzzing through his veins and racing down his body. Still, so many thoughts littering his mind. It didn’t take long to fall asleep, not when Tim’s chest was heaving low and steady breathes. Small puffs of air brushing against his own chest. Slim waist trapped around his arms. His own nose buried in hair. It was hard to fight off sleep. And for once, Jason didn't want to fight. 

\----

Jason’s eyes snapped open to the familiar sound of _violence_. The initial bang drew him out of the depths of slumber. The second one made him fully aware of the scenery he was working with. The third, and final one, that busted down his front door, made him shoot out of the bed. He ran for the bedroom door and closed it as silently as possible. Practiced and overused movements lead him to the nearest sock drawer in which he found a simple handgun. 

Once the gun was firmly locked, loaded and ready, then he looked back towards the bed. Tim was standing by the window next to the bed, scouting and scoping out the streets below. Once he turned around, Jason saw the small tuck of eyebrows, indicating that he was just as aware of their situation. 

There were footsteps running around the living room and kitchen and Jason instinctively back up with his back against Tim. 

“I’m not a civilian anymore.” Tim’s hand squeezed his shoulder and a low smile covered his face, but there was something else there. Something in the shadows of it revealing a seriousness and grimness. Something Jason recognized but had never associated with Tim. So he gave a low nodd and stepped aside.

They lined up, side by side. Tim crouching down low, into fighting stance. Jason’s finger resting intently on the trigger. The footsteps grew louder, faster. More intent on finding them. And then the door fell. It was kicked down by an unknown participant who wouldn’t reveal themself yet. 

Jason felt the surge of action twinge between them. Bodies tensing. Time slowing down in favor of their preparation. It was welcomed in moment such as these. Where the air grew dense awaiting the first strike together with the final _deep_ breathes being drawn. 

Then time picked up again, and Jason squeezed the trigger threateningly. Tim was next to him. _His_ Tim. After so long, he wasn’t going to let this all go without a fight.

“Timmers!?” 

_What?_

Suddenly a large object was behind heaved through the frame. One slender red leg revealed itself, followed closely by one dressed in black. A large as hammer was being drawn through his bedroom door.

“Harley?” Tim’s voice sounded utterly baffled. 

“ _Tim!_ ” 

And then someone else followed through the door. A redhead. 

“Oh my god, Tim! You’re okay!”

“ _Timothy Kitten Drake._ ”

Jason stared. His eyes felt like the size of an owl as a woman dressed in all black stepped through the door. Her finger was held high pointing accusingly at the air in front of her. He watched as Tim visibly shrank and began backing into the corner of which they were closest to. His shoulder were rolling up, reaching for his ears, and there was a pained expression over his earlier calm. And before Jason could even begin to comprehend _what_ was going on, Tim was turning on his heels and throwing himself towards the window. 

“Oh _no_ you do _not!_ ” The woman in black launched herself over the bed and Tim had barely opened the window before he was being thrown over her, to land with an oumf on the bed. It creaked and the springs squeaked at the sudden added weight. “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been!?” 

Tim’s hands shot up protectively over his face, “I-I’m… Sorry?”

The expression on the woman soured, “Sorry?” She said threateningly. “I did not raise you to worry you mother and godmothers like this.” She pinched his ear till his face twisted into something consistent of one part fear, two parts guilt, one part hurt and another of regret. 

“ _What_ is going on!?” Jason yelled, deflated and arms resting by his sides. Gun lazily wrapped around his partly limp fingers.

The whole group seemed to finally spare him a glance. The scene froze. Starting by the two who were still standing at the door. One looking idly at the bed. Another looking a bit more sympathetic. They both redirected their gaze to Jason, as if they just noticed him. Wide ogled eyes that raked his body, giving it a once over, and then one more. Tim also looked up with a sheepish smile. The woman, still holding his ear, seemed to twist a bit harder at that though, because he winced and glared at ther. Then she sent one last _terrifying_ look at the boy, to continue by letting him go and standing straight on the opposite side of the bed of Jason. Her hand rested on her hip as she favored one leg over the other. Her black curls were sprawling out from beneath a black hood. Goggles perched on top of her head. Whip on her hand-free hip. The material was shiny, almost reflecting the rising light of the city outside. The more Jason looked, the more things he recognized. It looked like Stray’s suit. Or… Maybe Stray’s suit looked like hers. 

His throat grew thick before Tim was even speaking.

“Jason,” Tim got up from the bed to stand beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder, the other gesturing to the odd and intruding group of women. “Uh… This is Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn… My family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there’s… that.
> 
> Yeah haha  
> You guys liking some wholesome mama Selina? 
> 
> Also!! Just throwing it out there that I am working on several writing projects at once but I will definitely not leave this until we see the finish line and have successfully crossed it. But there will be some new and different content up here on AO3 soon. If any of you happen to be Voltron fans (KeithxLance) then keep an eye out ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been A WHILE
> 
> I Told ya I wasn't going to give up on this story HAH  
> just had to deal with some shit on my own and take care of a writers block
> 
> This chapter is actually dedicated to the last person who commented on my work in chapter 11, you really inspired me to pick this up again and love you for that so kudos to you
> 
> also we're moving towards a close  
> so ye  
> have fun  
> don't kill me if my writing has changed  
> i'm human ok

Time, it seemed, was the only remedy to heal any wounds these days, Tim thought. Fresh our old, nothing worked better. It was like a full on health cure, given the right treatment plan. And so Tim watched the treatment unfold without further questioning och resistance, because he knew oh too well that time could not be rushed. He watched in silence and he watched in noise. At times he stood alone and in others he stood together. He felt discourage quite a lot. But he felt stronger each time. And it was one, a bit too beautiful, thursday morning that Tim could truly see the product of it all. Like an asthmatic taking their first clean breath of air post inhaler action, he smiled. 

Jason was on the couch, sitting up but far from conscious. His head was propped against the back of the couch and a pillow, his white streak of hair looking cleaner and almost identical to the shade of the washed out linen pillow. He looked younger sleeping, something that Tim had gotten the pleasure to learn through the past weeks. The sharpened edges soften by the arms of sleep and the dark circles under his eyes faded into a softer and healthier shade. 

Gotham was about to wake up and stretch her pretty limbs, shake her legs awake and get going, but it was just before this that Tim received a text that popped up on the computer in front of him. It wasn’t work so the apple computer he had propped on the cluttered kitchen counter let out a low ding as the banderoll of a text showed itself in the upper right corner.

Letting go of the blue coffee cup he’d been cradling he opened the text and and saw it was Selina. 

_Is he allergic to anything?_

Tim stared, unable to connect the dots of the simple message. 

_I know you’re up kitty, answer me._

**Sorry, but what?**

_Jason, is he allergic?_

**Uhhh…. Don’t think so, why?**

_Getting Harley to pick up things for tomorrow. Ivy’s the only one not eating turkey and we both know who’s the best at tackling the soccer moms this time a year ;)_

**Crap, it’s already thanksgiving?? I had completely forgotten.**

_You haven’t made any other plans have you?_

**No, just haven’t told Jason.**

_Get to it then, and be here by five, we’re going to need help._

Tim closed the computer with a deep breath before turning back to look at the sleeping beauty by the living room sofa. He hated being called that but Tim was pretty sure he found it endearing, deep down. They’d been spending a lot of time at Jason’s lately and although it wasn’t as nice as Tim’s, it was better situated and safer, a conclusion they’d come to after a very long night. But pushing aside Tim’s hate for the overly loud neighbours and the store alarms going off every third minute down the street, it was slowly molding into something that resembled a home. If you ignored the crime statistics, the countless gadgets, casefiles, tech systems and scattered gauntlets, it could’ve been any home at all. It was perfect for two college students. 

Jason’s legs was drowning in paper files and his slack hand was still holding onto a few as Tim softly padded over to the couch. He was wearing Jason’s old shirt and his own sweatpants, but had neglected to put on any socks, thus creating some very cold feet on the cool apartment floor. 

When he reached the couch he sat down next to the larger man but turned towards him instead and dug his feet into the crease between the sofa and Jason’s leg. He’d brought his coffee cup as well and was now leaning softly against the couch’s back as he watch the other. 

Gotham was yawning as a few cars rushed past down by the streets, a soft orange and pink light starting to pool by the ceiling above them. Jason stirred as Tim took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and Tim wiggled his toes to make his presence known. Jason’s head fell towards him and he slowly, groggily, he opened his eyes. He was already smiling a very small and private kind of smile when his eyes landed on Tim, who was also leaning his head against the couch, smiling. 

“Morning.” Jason rasped, voice raw. “It’s morning, right?” He asked looking around and towards the windows. There was no rain outside. No suffocative fog. No hale. No snow. Just peace. Light.

“Yeah.” Tim whispered, as if the slightest increase of noise might burst their bubble. 

Jason scrunched up his face before letting himself fall back to staring at Tim, eyes still freshly awoken. 

Autumn was present but Tim had never known it to be so warm as it had been the last few weeks. Given Selina had not been happy at first, in fact she’d been furious. A Thanksgiving invite wasn’t something that would’ve been offered a few months ago. But time healed wounds and time gave space for growth. 

“You got class today?” Tim asked, taking a sip of the coffee.

“Nope,” Jason sighed in content. “Only one left this week, got friday afternoon class tomorrow.”

“Nope.” Tim smiled. “Thanksgiving.”

“What? Really?” Jason said in light confusion. “I thought that was weeks away.” He chuckled as he looked out over the room.

“Me too.” Tim agreed. “Selina’s invited us over.”

“She has?” Jason raised his eyebrows, then smirked. “I mean, of course she has, I knew I’d charm her.”

“Fuck off,” Tim laughed, hitting him playfully on the arm. “For real though,” He settled down into a more serious note. “You think you can handle it?”

Jason turned to him with a look of utter disbelief on his face, “Me? Not handle a thanksgiving dinner?” 

Tim shrugged, “We’re not exactly traditional. Harley manages most holidays.” 

Jason laughed at that, “Hah, I bet they’re a lot more fun than any I’ve been to.”

And Tim had no hard time believing that. He couldn’t imagine holidays at Wayne manor being to much of a grand time and he didn’t even want to think of those that had passed after. He still knew very little of the time in between and what Jason had been up to. Had he been alone? Had he celebrated at all? When was the last time he got a christmas present? When was the last time someone said happy birthday? Tim didn’t know and it gnawed away at him as the thoughts came spilling into his mind. But he had also learnt that pushing Jason was not the right method and he knew that knowledge was yet anothering thing that came with time. So he put bonds over the bursting bubbles of questions and resumed to look at Jason in the dawns pinkish light. He was shifting through the papers that were spilling out over them. Flecks of a deeper green were showing in his eyes but his face looked relaxed, calm. Sensing the cats prying eyes the man glanced sideways with a crooked smiled. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Tim groaned and threw himself back as he rolled his eyes, hitting the seat of the sofa with his back. “How the _hell_ did I end up liking you.” Jason’s laugh rumbled and made Tim look up at him with a coy smile. “You know, I used to have standards before you.” 

“Oh, is that so?” Jason smirked pushing aside the papers and letting them scatter to the floor. He was moving over, separating Tim’s legs to place place his own between and hover over him. 

“Definitely.” Tim said in mock seriousness. “Had a list and all. No bad jokes. No traumatic past. No NSYNC hairdos.” He smirked and Jason laughed. 

“Well if that’s the case,” Jason smiled and pulled away, but not fast enough to escape Tim’s arms that were wrapping around his neck and pulling him down again. “Didn’t think so, huh?” Jason’s wicked grin gleamed in the morning light.

Tims smiled back at him, “Well I did say _before_ you.” He closed the space, pressing their lips together in a way that they’d learnt could send anyone realing. It was a play of push and pull that hadn’t been all too easy in figuring out but oh had it been fun. Tim hooked his leg around Jason’s upper thigh, pushing them ever closer, bodies searching for another. The larger man’s hand was searching the thin frame of the other, hand traveling the torso, playfully stroking the lining of his sweatpants, making Tim’s toes curl as he pushed up, craving contact. 

“Wanna move into the bedroom?” Jason asked between kisses as he traveled down Tim’s neck, reaching collarbones, shoulder, hands growing greadier. 

TIm’s vision was blurring in the sensation of it and he nodded, breathing in and out at uneven paces. “Yeah..” He sighed, craning his neck for Jason to access. 

Jason grinned as wrapped his arms around Tim’s back, Tim wrapping his legs around Jason’s waist, as he was being hoisted into the air. They both laughed as they knocked over the empty coffee cup that’s been sloppily placed by the foot of the sofa, but they continued kissing.

Jason was just passing the kitchen when Tim pulled away, red lips and already ruffled hair. “Wait,” He said breathing heavily, making Jason pull back to look at him with concern.

“You’re not allergic to anything, right?”

_“What?”_

\---

Thanksgiving was nothing Jason had ever expected. Once they’d arrived both he and Tim had been put into intense working to get the food done in time and once it was all on the table it was hard to see what was even edible due to Ivy’s flourishing plants that were spilling out over their pots. She explained it to be because of their _‘need for social interaction’_ and then she’d gone on to tell a lot more about the details. None of which Jason had understood, but he’d listened anyway. 

Selina had suggested a game of football later at night which took place on the rooftop of Harley and Ivy’s apartment, at a time when it was already dark and Jason had really been to full to even make an effort. But it had been fun, he admitted. Selina had been brutal but he’d expected no less. She had almost been as bad as Harley, but that was just an almost, for once Harley got the ball it seemed that the whole field backed away. 

That didn’t mean that Tim didn’t make a good effort though. He pulled out some tricks from the Stray handbook which Jason still wasn’t used to seeing. He ran fast, richochadde against the brick wall of the stairway to steal the ball, threw himself into rolls to dodge. It wasn’t very traditional but it turned out to be one of the best nights of Jason’s life. Ivy, who had been playing referee, had to give Harley red card three times before Harley got tired and tore it up, after that it was only warnings. 

Harley played with her imagination. Both Selina and Tim using their dexterity. And Jason tried his best to keep up with them all by playing to his strength and larger build. 

By the end of it all Jason felt as if he could fall into a pile of dust and bones, limbs tired and stomach full. So he took a place by one of the armchairs in the living room while he listened to Selina yelling something at Harley in the kitchen. Tim peered his head out of the kitchen every other minute to check on him but with each passing minute he was growing whiter from what Jason assumed to be flour. 

“I’m not blaming you, I’m just saying-” Selina said walking out of the kitchen with a glass of white wine in her hand. “You could’ve made the cake yesterday and we wouldn’t have to-” But she didn’t finish and instead skillfully dodges a flying wooden spoon that splattered a white paste onto the wall opposite. The woman shook her head, making her curls bop around her head. “Fine.” She held up her free hand, “Never mind.”

Selina took a place in the living room on the couch next to Jason’s armchair. 

“Trouble in the kitchen?” He asked, trying to sound like he wasn’t crawling inside his own skin.

“Don’t you worry about that dear.” Selina said pleasantly and took a sip of her drink as she crossed her legs.

Months had passed and even though Selina had warmed to him there was still a wall there, making Jason look through a window to have the slightest clue of what was going on inside. It wasn’t like Selina was mean or even rude, but she didn’t trust him. That much he knew. 

“So how’s school?” She asked as she leaned back into the sofa cushions.

“Good, I enjoy the classes.” He smiled.

“You study… Literature, was it?” She raised a trimmed eyebrow.

“Yes, I like reading so I figured it was the best way to go. Never been much for computers like Tim and I prefer to keep my business side elsewhere.”

“Wise choice.” 

“How about you? Tim told me you just came back from Florida. Anything exciting down there?”

She turned to look at him as if evaluating her words, picking them apart and rearranging them. “Business per usual.” She gave a friendly, albeit coy smile. At times like these Jason could see the shadow of Tim, or what she had passed onto him at least. 

Tim, the geeky boy with a camera, who never sought out anything too bad. He’d changed. And it hit Jason over and over again. Not like it was bad. But it was still change. 

“Selina! Assistance!” Tim backed out of the kitchen in hurried steps, moving aside as a pot came banging into the wall. Selina took a deep breath and another deep sip of her drink before she even stood up.

“I can help if you’d like?” Jason offered as she turnt to look at him. 

“I think it’s better I handle it. Wouldn’t want you getting hurt.” She smirked and walked off. 

In her place Tim dropped down and ran a bony hand through his hair. He’d made an effort in trying to make it look nice for the occasion but it was sprouting up in awkward angles making him look more disheveled than he should. 

“Surviving?” He turned, looking at Jason.

“Barely.” Jason smirked as the conversation rose in the kitchen once again. 

“Yeah me neither.” Tim laughed trying to adjust the bowtie he was wearing; a present from Harley and Ivy. Green and decorated with small black hearts. “Wanna get out of here?” He looked up suddenly.

“What? But deserts about to-” If Jason didn’t know any better he would’ve thought a small explosion went of in the kitchen as it seemed to light up for an instant as a whooshing sound swished through it. 

“Yeah… No.” Tim laughed awkwardly. “I think it’s better if we just stay out of their hair for now…. Harls got some bad news.”

Jason looked away from the kitchen opening, turning to Tim who was still looking at it. Gaze fixed far away, further than the walls of the apartment. “What? Something happened?” Jason asked, worry creeping into his voice in a way he only allowed with Tim.

“Well.... It’s rumoured that-” Tim looked at Jason swiftly, eyes flickering over him. “Some of the joker’s men are gathering.”

_Silence._

“You okay? I… I mean you…” The words seemed to die on Tim’s tongue.

Jason wasn’t sure if he was okay. He felt a strange space inside of him shift at the news. But it felt weird. Inappropriate. Especially considering where he were, and with the people around him. So he didn’t answer, just looked at the door to the kitchen, which held the only woman who might just know what he’d been through. No wonder there were pots and pans flying.

“Come on.” Tim stood up, almost instantly pulling Jason with him. Jason hadn’t even realized how close they’d been till they were both standing and were almost touching. “Let’s get out of here.” Tim smiled, an ocean staring right at Jason as he stroke his thumb ever so gently over Jason’s hand. And how could Jason deny him.

With a short nod and a private smile he watched Tim’s eyes twinkle before he set off to the kitchen to say goodbye. Jason stayed behind because it still wasn’t his place. But he did catch Selina’s eye before they left and gave her a nod.

“Is Harley okay?” He asked once they were outside and walking down the block. There was a light splatter of rain but nothing too bad and the chill was far away from troubling. 

“Yeah,” Tim smiled and finally took of the bowtie, messing up his hair even more in the process. “She looked like someone had given her a lotto win when I told her there was no need for cake.” He laughed and Jason smiled. The Gotham streets were dark and spotted with golden lights. It was empty and quiet, wholy perfect for the occasion. 

“Come on.” Tim nudged him into the closest alleyway, taking the lead. “I have an idea.” Jason followed obediently and watch as Tim guided them through a maze of alleyways. Jason wasn't the following kind. He liked to lead an he liked control. But for the past months he was finding himself trailing cats and running after, like a game of chase. And worst of all was that he didn’t mind. Tim landed them on one of the connecting streets. It was just as empty, but there was a bar and a few tattoo parlors along the walk that shone an extra bit of light. “This way.” Tim hurried over the road, turning in the middle of it to gesture for Jason to follow. 

He looked so full of life that night. His shirt was messed up, hair even more, and there was still flour on patches of his skin. But he’d never looked so perfect in Jason’s eyes as when he smiled with those pearly white teeth and gravitational eyes. Jason followed, and he thought to himself, that he would follow this man to the end of the world.

They ended up outside the bar and went around the corner of it to find a dumpster, some paper boxes that were melting in the rain, and one thing that made Jason’s heart skip a beat. A bike.

Tim immediately crouched down by the giant chain and started picking at the lock as Jason stood behind and stared. “You’re kidding?” He said, incredulously. 

“Nope.” Tim grinned, right before there was a satisfactory pop. He stood up facing Jason, one hand bearing the chain, the other two small pins. 

Jason laughed, feeling like the air left his lungs. “How are you this perfect?” He stared in awe, not even bothering to hide his amazement. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Tim grinned a wicked and far to coy smile, and Jason stepped forward. In one sweeping movement they were kissing and the chain was falling onto the ground. Tim was humming happily into the kiss and holding onto Jason’s dress shirt, as Jason ran his thumbs over Tim’s jawline. 

There was another _click_ and they both broke apart to look towards their side.

Three men were opening the bar’s backdoor as they were talking amiably, waving hands and speaking too loud to be necessary. The one in the middle had a silver beard and black tattooed moving over his neck and onto the side of his face. He was the first to see them and the first to connect the dots, it seemed. His eyes moved from the two men embracing each other, to the chain beside them, and then the bike. 

“Time to go.” Tim said curtly.

“Yup.” Jason agreed and they both ran for the bike as recognition became apparent in the greying man’s eyes. He was large and took up the door well for himself, so when one of his friends tried to move out before him to see what was going on they all stuck to one another. Which all made it possible to Jason to straddle the bike, Tim follow suit, and for them to hit the ignition. 

They burst out of the alleyway in wild laughter, Tim holding his slender arms around Jason.

And Tim’s laughter.

It was the most beautiful thing Jason had ever heard.

\---

“Hey, how’s it going?” 

_“Pretty alright, considering.”_

“That's the positive spirit we all love and support.”

_“Right…”_

“Don’t worry, you’ll be free any second.” Tim chuckled, stirring the coffee cup on top of the bench. The spoon tinkered against the porcelain but the open window was drowning most of the smaller sounds. All there were was Gotham’s singing voice.

 _“This is ridiculous,”_ Jason hissed into the phone, making Tim smile. _“I run a multi million business and here I am taking a stupid college exam. And for what?! It’s just a damn cover.”_

Tim finished his exams a few days ago and had taken it upon himself to pick up the workload regarding their less normal life. The Scarecrow case was neatly mapped out on the entirety of their living room wall. Pictures, maps, documents, samples. You name it.

“You’re only saying that because you’re nervous and hiding all you insecurities behind a strong facade, often created as a result of childhood trauma of any sort. Education is good. It creates for a safer and better environment for us all.” Tim spoke calmly and sat down on top of the windowsill of the open window in the living room.

 _“Tim- What the?”_ Jason replied.

“Wise words, not mine admittingly, but wise nonetheless.” Tim smirked as he rested his eyes on the huge crime board. There was a low grunt on the other line which only made Tim snort. “I’m messing with you. Stop worrying tincan. It’ll be fine. If I recall correctly you’re sort of smart when you’re down on earth with the rest of us mortals.” That at least earned him a low laugh on the other end of the line. “Now listen to me, you’ll do great and once you get home I’ll show you the news on our side project. I think, not to jinx it or anything, that I might, just maybe, have made some progress. Something that might crack this thing.” 

_“You’re shitting!”_ Jason’s voice rose a bit too loud, making Tim cringe and pull his phone away. _“I could kiss you! How?”_

“Calm it sports, first school, then work.” 

_“Right, thanks_ mom.”

“Just get your ass home once you’re done. I think it’s time for some real action around here.” 

_“Way to wound a man’s pride, Tim.”_

“You know what I mean.” Tim drawled playfully. 

_“Fine, I’ll be home in three hours, tops.”_

“Great, now go nail this test.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

The line died. There was a breeze going through the window and hitting Tim’s back. Cold, but much needed. Somehow the entire building had suffered some form of radiator malfunctioning and the apartment was running closer to the one hundred scale. The landlord was supposed to be sending someone but there had yet to have showed up a single soul. Tim didn’t dare tinker with it, partly because of the landlord being a very intimidating woman and also because he really didn’t mind the whole thing too much. It allowed for the open window and for him to gaze out into the familiar streets from the safe walls of the apartment. None of them had been taking too many risks lately and thus it was starting to become quite claustrophobic at times. 

Perhap that was an exaggeration but it made the claws in Tim want to bend over backwards most days. Jason had gotten the backlash of just that at the odd times but he’d never once complained or not understood.

They had both agreed to lay low as they tackled the Scarecrow case, all in favour to avoid bothersome cops, petty villains, and snooping bats.

But soon, _soon_ , Tim thought. They were close enough to it that he could taste it. Bitter coffee saving his life was well enough but there was nothing quite as neat as cracking a case like this. He dropped the mug off by the coffee table as he walked up to the wall of papers and strings. Five noname labs with various access to chemicals had been reported in association to quite the unorthodox research, all geographically stationed by a random pattern. Four witnesses claiming sightings of _“The Leader”_ had so far turned up dead. Four dead witnesses with unknown causes of death. Four bodies with traces of unknown chemicals. Four bodies with no connection to each other, the Scarecrow, the labs, or any criminal records. No DNA. No more happenings. No strange business at all, really.

But there was one thing that had been bugging Tim’s mind. Scarecrow was operating in a way that did not suit his profile. And he had, for some time now. According to his psychological profile, provided by Arkham’s low security database, Jonathan Crane was a man of pride. He was not one to cower in the shadows for this long. He was a man that wanted to show the world just what he was up to. 

The Scarecrow should’ve been dropping hints or bits of what was coming. He should’ve been trying to rile up the city and the people within it. Not staying apathetic like this.

It was as if every move was precisely calculated and not one bit was disturbed by the witnesses that had first came forwards two months ago. They had all died within a handful of days after their steps into the spotlight.

Tim didn’t see Scarecrow in this the case. He saw something else. He saw the assistance of someone else. But who? Military? It suited the profile better. Someone of military background with a basic knowledge of biochemical substances together with vast experience in removing evidence. 

So that was where he was at and he could _feel_ that he was closing in. 

Four pictures hung above the large map. All ex-military who suited the profile. One reported missing two years ago. Two allegedly under protection of the government; but Tim could not find any additional documentation regarding this. And the last one dead, since four years back. The only reason to why said dead guy was even on the board was because his wife had suddenly moved back to Gotham, less than a year ago, without any ties to the city except her deceased husband. 

Tim picked up one of the netaly stacked case files that were lined up on the floor under the wall. He took it and sat back down onto the windowsill, starting to go through his material for the umpteenth time.

An hour later and he was really no closer, except his coffee had gone cold. So he got up to make more. 

Outside it was starting to snow, lithe and breezy flakes of snow were padding the ground below but the apartment remained an acceptable temperature anyway. As he turned on the coffee machine he heard an awful rumbling from outside the apartment door that sounded like metal clanging against metal. 

Tim pulled a hoodie over his old, very cringey, MCR shirt and moved to open the door. Across the hall, further down, there were men in blue suits knocking on doors. One was carrying a blue toolbox and the other was carrying a clipboard that he was periodically looking down on. Tim retreated back into the apartment again in favour of staying out of their way and savouring his last minute of the Gotham melody. 

The coffee finished brewing and he filled his already half full cup with more and hot liquid. It filled the room with a lovely, warm, and familiar scent as he went back to his stack of files, scanning them over and over. He wasn’t sure for how long he was just staring but eventually his mug was practically empty, which he only noticed because someone was knocking on the door and pulling him out of his mind. 

His brain was itching for him to stay, to remain in front of the scrapbook wall. But he also knew that if Jason had to live through another night of Hawaiian sauna instead of his regular apartment he wasn’t sure he’d make it.

So he left the mug by the counter and went to open the door, not bothering to fix his hair that was already beyond salvation. Although he liked to believe it looked somewhat better when it was pulled back into a small, half bun.

“Ello.” The plump man with a chart said as Tim opened the door. He was stubby and bald with an uneven patchworks of facial hair covering his small double chin. “We here ‘bout the pipes.” He continued and throwing his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the much taller man behind him who was holding the large metal box. The tall man didn’t speak but nodded his head in greeting as he tugged at his cap. The shorter had a thick british accent which both confused Tim but also, not especially surpringing. It was Gotham after all.

“Right.” Tim nodded. “The landlord sent you?”

“That he did.” Shorty answered. His name tag read Greg, but that wasn’t was Tim reacted to. _He._ Mrs. Roselyn liked to call herself landlord in honour of her dead husband, but she sure was no man. 

Tim scanned the two of them once more and caught the tag of the firm this time. It was the typical blue and yellow colour match, and the name read “Gimli's” on both of the suits together with the taller man’s cap. 

“Right…” Tim said, looking inside. “Actually, do you mind if I just clean a few things up in here before you step in.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s no bother-”

“Great, thanks!” Tim said, closing the door as abruptly as he dared. Quietly, he chained the door closed and then hurried over to the files. He started rummaging and knocking down the stacks like crazy. Pictures and documents were falling out and scattering over the wooden floor but it wasn’t what he was looking for. _Agh, come on._

The men from the hallway began knocking again but Tim ignored it. He grabbed a bunch of files and lifted them to look beneath but it was empty. He threw them aside and scrambled to his feet. 

Then it happened. 

Vertigo hit like a gunshot through the head. The room blacked out and swayed like jelly, and Tim failed to stay upright, falling to his knees instead. Blinking profusely, he tried to get a sense of being. The knocking was growing louder.

It was as if the room was moving in slow motion, frame by frame. Glitching. The digits weren’t adding up anymore. Tim moved as fast as he could and he could’ve sworn that his body was moving normally. But his mind wasn’t following. His vision was running late and thus he crashed into the kitchen sink rather than stopping in front of it.

“Open up sir!” The burly accent called from across the room and Tim could hear how the wooden door was straining against the chain. He should’ve locked it all the way. But there was no time. There hadn’t been time. Tim grabbed the coffee cup but it slipped and crashed into the floor. Tim followed it, knocking into the floor with far too much force than intended. 

His vision was swimming in a sea of morphing colours and shapes. Shaking his head he looked down to see his hand cut open on the mug. 

“Open now!” The caller repeated, banging now. 

_No time._

With trembling hands he grabbed the bottom pieces of the mug and put them together. Puzzling until it was clear, whole, and right before him. 

And all of the sudden it made so much sense.

_Of course._

This was it.

“Bloody hell,” 

_Oh. There was that voice again. Where was it coming from?_

“Noel!” 

_That's british… England.... Wait!_

Tim hurtled up from the floor, gangly limbs and stumbling feet. He thought his hand hurt but it was distant. He thought his head did too, but that was even further away. He made it to the couch where a few stacks of paper laid abandoned under the coffee table, and he collapsed next to it. With sticky fingers he grabbed at the files while his other hand started tapping numbers on his phone. His thumb slipped on the screen, smearing red, but in the end the numbers went through and he hit dial. Tim was pretty sure he was talking before he reached the receiver but it was hard to know. His tongue felt heavy, swollen of maybe numb. His eyes were blinking and squinting furiously as he tried to stay. He couldn’t go yet. He wasn’t done. 

The room had never looked so chaotic as to when Tim spoke into his phone that afternoon. And Tim didn’t think he’d ever feared losing something so ugly, so bad. 

So he took one last breath against the sofa cushions that smelt of whiskey. Cigarettes. Coffee. Wood. Fire. Home.

And then the door broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked that  
> i enjoyed writing it
> 
> let me know what you think  
> let me know your theories of what's happening  
> might include something  
> inspire me you amazing lot of creative nerd
> 
> well peace out for now  
> see ya next chapter
> 
> oh and pardon any spelling mistakes, im a heathen


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the notes at the end!!

Jason felt the buzz of a call and was close to jumping five feet into the air. Not only because he wasn’t ready but if the woman monitoring the test heard it he was quite sure she’d afflict more pain than half of Gotham’s criminals. So his hand shot towards it and turned it off as fast as he could. Sighing out of relief when another student across the hall spilled their monster-drink; buying the attention by doing so. The test wasn’t actually that hard and Tim had been right about it going fine, but the fact that he was even doing it was probably more scary. This was _college_. Maybe this would’ve been reality had it not been for a few unlucky events. Maybe this is what would’ve awaited him if life had treated him fairly. 

Now fairly was a poorly used word. Jason didn’t trust it because really nothing was fair. Not a single thing. 

But the test and the impending possibility of this having been his “fair” realty was scary. It made him itch and made it feel like he was intruding. It _wasn’t_ his after all. _I'm not one of them,_ Jason thought as he looked around at the other students. During the short break they had gotten, after the first half of the test, he heard that the girl to his right was heading home to her grandma after it all. Apparently she was sick and had no one else that could take care of her. The person to his left was going to their partner for a movie night. And Jason was pretty sure that the woman monitoring everyone was going to return home to an abundance of cats or dog, something fury at least. They were, at least somewhat, normal. 

Meanwhile Jason was going home to discuss battle strategies, go over case files regarding one of Gotham’s worst criminals, and then perhaps some down time reading - if he was lucky. 

Sometimes he struggled not bursting into fits of laughter in the middle of these kind of situations, they were just too bizarre.

But at least he wasn’t alone....

It was strange living with Tim. In one way it could be quite hellish, privacy was hard on such a small space. It didn’t help that the heat had been busted the last couple of days as well. Tim wanted out and Jason could understand, he was also going a bit crazy because of the restrictions they had to follow. All in the name of safety. 

But on the other hand, he was pretty sure he’d be going even more insane without Tim. Somehow the boy had set up camp inside of Jason and wasn’t leaving. He was running races between his brain and heart… And possibly other places. Leaving Jason in a swirling, yet amazing, haze.

He noticed the cat whilst he wasn’t even there. The scent of him lingered as Jason stepped outside. His coffee stains migrated to other artefacts than his own. His laughter echoed Jason’s mind. His… Self, it just captivated you. It took you over, and as if trapped - wouldn’t let you go. But god if Tim was a prison then Jason never wanted out. Lock him in, throw away the key.

It had gotten to a point that Jason never thought was possible. Nothing that should’ve been possible because the world wasn’t fair. Especially to those like Jason and Tim. And yet there they were. Jason finishing up his exam and Tim waiting for him at home.

Both alone in their own ways, but at least they were alone together. 

In the end Jason made it out of the exam room whole and safe, with the exception of one, a bit too hard, glance from the animal-lady. But he figured he could survive that. After all, cats weren’t that bad.

People were high fiving and smiling as they walked out, surprisingly an okay exam in most people’s opinion it seemed. Jason along with them felt a sort of joy or pride. So he took a detour on the way home to pick up Tim’s favorite Starbucks. At Tim’s _hilarious_ request he was wearing some dumb pair of glasses that made him looking stupid, but apparently made him stand out less according to Tim. Jason was half sure he’d been screwing around with him though. Didn’t matter, seemed to do the trick.

As he walked into the coffee shop he heaved a low sigh at the line and took a place. 

Five teenage girls were in front of him and all seemed to be making eyes at one specific barista that was working behind the counter with a charming and sparkling smile to anyone who made eye contact. 

Not surprising at all, it took quite some time to make it to the front. Each girl seemed to almost linger at the desk, so much that one kept her hand on it as she was trying to walk away. Ended up looking quite strange but who was Jason to say anything. Just his luck as well, he had just picked up his phone, remembering to call back Tim when the girl in front of him stepped aside with what could only be described as a dreamy sigh. Jason looked at her and then turned to face the cashier. 

Still the same sparkling, Mr. Perfect Smile. He wasn’t bad looking, but Jason couldn’t be less interested. Nonetheless he put away the phone, “Hey, one caramel macchiato, please.”

“One caramel macchiato,” the guy echoed.

Jason pulled out a wrinkled twenty from his pocket and leaned his hip against the counter as he waited. 

“Wouldn’t have called you out as the caramel type.” The guy said in an airy tone, calling Jason’s attention. He was similar to Tim’s build, but with broader shoulders and his hair was a dirty blonde that every now and then fell in his face. _Greg_ his name read. _What kind of hipster name was that?_

“Oh no, I love diabetes in a cup.” Jason said dryly, wanting to cut the small talk. Not his area of expertise or joy of life.

 _Greg_ just laughed lightly at his remark, seemingly not sensing the tone of the conversation _at all._ “I’m sure someone as sweet as you must indulge in it every now and then.” He lifted an eyebrow. Surely a move that swooned at least forty girls a day.

“Sure dude, whatever you say.” Jason said blankly.

“Hm,” The barista hummed with a gentle sort of smile, close to coy, as he continued. 

Somehow the stream of people had ebbed away by the time that Jason’s order got finished which took _way_ too long and cost _way_ too much.

So once the hipster man pushed it over the counter Jason was swift to take it together with his change that’d been laying next to the receipt - which he left behind. 

He was mid-revolution, about to head for the door, when the voice spoke again. 

“So I guess that drink is for someone else. I sure hope they’re doing well.” He sighed dreamingly. “It can be really worrying when people won't answer their phone, one never knows what they wanted.” 

Jason felt some part of him twist, something inside that dug deep. The small chatter of those still in the shop faded and all that could be heard was the voice of the man behind him-

“If I was you I’d hurry home just to be sure.”

Jason turned back in a heartbeat and reached across the counter. His fist found and closed around the man’s shirt, janking him almost halfway over the counter, up close and personal.

“ _What did you just say_?” He hissed with a glare he hoped could bury deep down enough to hurt the man. The other customers in the shop had gone quiet Jason noticed, but his eyes remained on the man who was smiling indifferently. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said softly. “Maybe you need to sit down sir. Take a breath.”

Jason only squeezed the man’s shirt harder.

“And really,” the man continued in the same mellow pace, smile gentle and alarming at the same time. “I _do_ hope you have a _wonderfull_ day.”

Jason watched has the man handed him a piece of paper. As it came into focus he saw the receipt that’d been abandoned on the counter. Besides the usual numbers and prices, there was something else, hand made on it… There was a small smiley drawn on it. 

Then the man turned it around to show the back. 

It was blank.

All except for what one would’ve mistaken for a disfigured smiley, if you didn’t know what it really was. 

The sweet drink was lost to the floorboards of the coffeeshop and the man behind the counter fell back down. 

Jason, he was running out the door.

Only leaving to hear the echo of a soft laughter from the place he left behind.

\----

He hit dial.

He hit dial again.

He hit dial again, and again, and again.

“Hi, it’s James. I’d rather you didn’t leave a message, but you know, it’s your choice.”

The same words kept coming back, over and over again. The same tone. The same syllables. The same annunciation.

He couldn’t reach him.

Jason was pretty sure he’d never ran so fast in his entire life. He ran into business men and women that were heading home for the day. He jumped over a delivery for a grocery store and almost crashed into a street musician. He skidded across the street, ignoring the honking cars, in favour of reaching alleys and short cuts faster. 

Yet his building could not come into view fast enough. And once it did Jason couldn’t even feel relief. All he did was race the stairs, heart in his throat, and thousands of thoughts screaming inside his head. 

He didn’t slow down till he was on the right floor, turning down the right corridor. HIs breath was heavy and his chest rose and fell like a mad man. But it all stopped as he saw the blue, wooden door hanging ajar. There was something red staining it.

Moving closer, Jason stepped on every board that he knew did not creak. His boots rolled against the ground and suddenly he was right before it all. The number sign was upside down, it was hanging lopsidedly and was swaying slightly. Red fingerprints were dragging over the handle, parts of the wood, and seemed to be coming from the inside.

He pushed it open with nudge, feeling nothing and hearing nothing but his heart racing. 

What was inside was no better.

Red splatters clinged onto the hallway floors, walls, and as Jason walked further in it didn’t stop. There was broken porcelain, furniture, the TV was laying by the kitchen island’s feet, and in every piece of the open kitchen-living room area there were signs of a struggle.

Blood splattered everywhere. 

“Tim!?” As if hit by lightning, the apathy that had taken a hold of him in the hall was erased. Instead it made room for a new wave of panic. “Tim!” Jason roared as he hurried through the room. He ran into the bedroom, slamming the door open, but saw nothing. The bathroom was the same. All along he called out to the name that he knew wouldn't’ answer. 

A darkness began to cling to the sides of his vision as he moved through the place once more, even running out to the halls just for safety measures once more. Heart thumping, blood rushing, something was aching. The world was closing in and Jason didn’t know where to go. His body felt too big, took up too much space. The world was growing smaller and he wasn’t fitting into it. 

When had his breathing become so heavy?

“No!” He yelled, taking a few step in the living room. “No, no, no!” He screamed and kicked as hard as he could at the already broken and mistreated TV. His hands found his hair and ran through it, tugging at the roots of it as he squeezed his eyes shut... 

Tim was gone.

\---

It took far too much time for him to collect the pieces again. He felt like a broken glass or bottle. Any sanity that’d been contained was spilling over or seeping out the broken bottom. And with each miserable minute that he just stared at the mess that was his home, Tim could be out there. Tim could still be alive, and waiting for him. 

And that was the thought that finally got him to act.

The thoughts were shut out and the anger took its place. Or, not anger, rage.

He moved through the apartment with calculating eyes, looking for the signs that would lead him to Tim. The signs that could bring him back. 

He saw signs of Tim’s fighting back, there were things scattered on the kitchen island as if someone had been on it, and a collapsible staff was lying abandoned in the living room.

The house was a mess but Jason worked through it. The staff was obviously Tim’s, but there was a knife under armchair that Jason did not recognize. 

He shut out the picture of red glutinous liquid clinging to it. 

The abundance of files were scattered and their furniture broken or stained. But the board was oddly untouched… Except-

Jason was about to step forward to look closer when there was a slam of car doors and sirens coming from the distance. The sounds shot through the air from the open window beside him, forcing him to stop and look outside. Feeling like the entire world was against him he moved away in realisation that someone must’ve called the cops and time was running out _again._

First instinct told him to ignore them, beat the shit out of whoever dared to even move between those frames that separated his apartment to the outside hall. He didn't care that they were “officers of the law”, or that they were there to “help”. Gotham police could and would never help, and beating cops wouldn’t be a first. In fact, taking out everything he was _feeling_ on those idiots might just cure some of the gut wrenching, acrid rage he was feeling. Or at least sedated it a bit.

But a voice inside, that was similar to the one who he knew was his real home, told him not to. And it made the ache so much worse. 

Nevertheless, people were in the building now and more and more sirens were closing in through the window. Jason _had_ to move. 

But before he even thought of which way to go, he realized that something was off.

Something was up with the whole apartment, something did not really make sense. The way everything was so perfectly ready for him to walk in and see? It struck him as odd. Yeah Tim was great when it came to fighting, gracious, he made it an art at times, a really _hot_ art in reality. But it didn’t fit in. Didn’t fit the time or place, and those fighting back would’ve definitely left less… neat marks. It looked like a simulation of a fight rather than the real thing. It wasn’t dirty enough. And it looked overdone. Almost staged.

No, something was wrong, but there was also no time to figure out _what._ Whoever was on their way would walk through that door at any minute to find Jason staring like a dumb idiot. And whoever they were, good cop - bad cop, they couldn’t see Jason _or_ this. The apartment was safe, but only for as long as no one other than Jason or Tim entered it. 

So Jason hurried; he pulled out his phone and as quickly as possible, started taking pictures. Mostly of the board, but also of anything he thought looked off. Grabbing an old gym bag, that’d been resting in a corner, he started throwing files into it, grabbing as many gadgets and key pieces of, what had become his home, as possible. Anything of value and as much incriminating things as possible.

He tried his very best to not look _too_ closely on the pictures he grabbed, or the small box he’d kept in his sock drawer the last few weeks. 

No, he just shoved it into the bag.

It hadn’t taken more than a minute before the bag was practically full and there were voices from down the hall. But Jason had his helmet on, pockets full of gadgets and jacket securely hugging his upper body. He grabbed the final artifact from a hidden space. A floor board under their bed was loose and there under it laid a small stick that he hurriedly pocketed before rushing towards the living room again. 

He heard the voices in the hall, close enough for him to hear what they were saying if he’d listened. But all he bothered hearing was a roaring voice of someone screaming “freeze” as the door was thrown open. Jason didn’t look back to watch the man holding the gun fire. He threw himself out the kitchen window, letting his body crash through the glass, arms shielding his head, and then free fall as quickly as gravity would allow. 

For a brief and fleeting second it was as if the world disappeared. And maybe it would’ve lingered, had Jason allowed it. Had he stayed in that sense of weightlessness, careless and freeing state, then maybe it would’ve been easier. 

But Jason didn’t want easy.

He wanted Tim back.

So he pushed the button of the small stick he’d brought and all of the sudden the street was engulfed in a deafening boom that shot through the air, pushing Jason further away together with a surging heat. 

So with that he caught himself in a roll on the neighbouring rooftop. Not gracious, painful, but satisfying. 

Getting up, pushing past the pain-

He started to run. 

 

\----

Rage, fury, confusion, hurt. Call it what you want but there was something ready to either boil over inside of Jason, or drown him. He hadn’t had time to realize which one just yet though. Dread was seeping through his blood and it felt like it was coagulating, clogging his veins as it did. 

There was a lot going on inside to say the least. But never had he imagined that once the day would come, those emotion would plague him for completely unrelated reasons. 

He banged the larch gates with his gloved fist; not like knocking on the gates to hell, rather like he was ready to scream at a neighbour who was having way to loud of a party. 

It wasn’t like he imagined. 

But then again, he hadn’t imagined coming face to face with a slimmer version of himself as he opened the door either. Minus the white stripe of course.

“Can I help you?” The man said with an annoyingly naive and friendly demeanor. 

“Yeah,” Jason said simply. “Move.” He pushing past the man and into the hall. There was neither time nor patience for anything other than answers.

“Hey- Wait!” A hand fell onto Jason’s shoulder and without flinching Jason grabbed onto the arm as hard as he could and janked it forwards, throwing the other man over him. Sadly, but expectedly, the man barely hit the floor before he made his way up again. Now with his fists raised. 

The man lashed out and sprang forwards, but Jason moved aside and made for kicking the other in the side. Annoyingly as it was, the man moved away too. 

“Where’s Bruce?” Jason growled. Though he didn’t get much of a response before he had to try and dodge another set of fists.

A vase tipped over, the carpet bloodied, and Jason couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt just a little to be thrown into the large oak doors, decorated in swirling metals. 

There were two sets of bloody noses, one busted lip and an aching shoulder before Jason decided he’d had enough. He rushed forward with _all_ that he had and slammed his shoulders into the others stomach. 

Robins were never taught to fight dirty. But Jason wasn’t a Robin.

The other man flew back into the wall where a large portrait of some old lady hanged, it crashed down onto the ground together with the man. 

“Master Dick, what-” 

What had been a vigorous fight turned stiff and silent when the breaking porcelain echoed through the room. And this time it was _not_ a vase. Instead a tray of broken cups laid by the side of some very fancy black shoes. 

By one of the many open doorways stood a man, older and greyer than the other two that’d been fighting. He dressed in a tidy suit, white gloves and wore a neatly combed mustache. But his eyes didn’t match his otherwise calm demeanor. Instead they looked like a landscape that’d been freshly wiped by a tornado. Bare, frightened even.

“Hi Alfred.” Jason said with the tiniest smile, one that he knew only Alfred could see. And he did so because this was the man, the only man, that Jason could not bare to think of what he’d put him through.

He was the man that no matter what- no matter the white streak, the amount of gruesome training sessions, and the many years that’d passed- he would always remember.

“Master Jason…” The Butler exhaled slowly. 

“Jason?” Dick said from his position on the floor, seemingly frozen, besides his head that snapped from Alfred to Jason in a heartbeat. 

Jason stared down at him unimpressed, “Nice to see you haven’t gotten any smarter, detective.” He sneered and put away the gun again. “Now, where’s Bruce?”

\---

“What do you mean he’s not here? It’s his house right? Why the shit are you here anyway?” Jason said marching down the hall, feeling like he was ready to throw a fist through the wall, passing through Dick first though cause he _would not_ leave his side. The man was like a leech. 

“He took Damian to… a thing.” 

“Therapy, I hope.” Jason muttered and went straight for the batcave. Alfred had made sure that there was no risk of them tearing each other apart, then with some quivering hands, he had dismissed them so that he could clean up and make some tea. Now Jason was struggling to keep that promise because the fact that Dick wouldn’t trust him enough to say where the hell Big Man was, it wasn’t very comforting. Every second that past felt like it was tearing away at Jason’s soul. 

“Why are you here? Why now? Where have you been? Jason, _talk_ to me.” Dick finally stopped and took a hold of Jason’s forearm in the process. 

Jason didn’t try to throw him this time, although it was tempting. 

“I _don’t have time._ ” He clenched his jaw, trying his very best to keep his demeanor somewhat composed. 

As if a miracle, Dick somehow read the mood for once in his life and let go. Jason was standing with his back towards him, but he could feel the eyes burying into his neck. 

“Let me help.” He said solemnly. 

Jason snorted, “I didn’t come here for you,” 

“Then why are you here?” Dick continued as Jason started moving again, finally reaching the entrance to the batcave.

“I need- I need Bruce to clean up his fucking mess.” 

“That’s a lot to ask from someone who’s been gone. Where have you-” He was interrupted by Jason’s sharp eye as he turned around.

“You wanna help me? _Stop_ asking questions.” He turned around and started walking again, pulling out his phone before they reached the center of the great hall the Bat called cave. “Log in.” He continued, stopping by the oversized computer.

When there was no reply or movement he looked up to see Dick looking down at him with that annoying kick-you-in-the-ass mother hen look. “You’ve got to give me something Jason. If you’re who I think you are, then you really shouldn’t be here. Last time I saw you you were gunning down a crime sight, shooting at crooks _and_ police…”

“It’s not that simple and you know it.” Jason hissed back.

“No? _I’m_ a cop, Jay. But I’m also Nightwing. I’m _your_ broth-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jason stepped forward, pushing the top of his phone against Dick’s chest. “You have no right waving around that title. None of you have any right to those titles.” Glaring, he felt a stinging sensation slowly morph into a small ember inside. He didn’t wanna start a brawl but fuck Dick was acting like- like- Well a real _dick._

“You run around all high and mighty, playing good guy, never getting your hands dirty…” Jason felt like he could’ve killed Dick with the poison lacing his words, “But _this,_ this is where your _fucking_ tip-toeing gets you.” He pushed the screen of his phone hard enough to Dick’s chest for him to take a step back and grab it.

He looked like he was about to say something back, a mix of his own anger and perhaps hurt pooling at his eyes, but then he looked to the phone and another kind of crease formed at his forehead. “What’s this?” He asked gravely. 

“That’s my apartment, my _case_ , before yours and Bruce’s mistake came in the way. And now he has something of mine. Something I actually _care_ about.” It was hurting inside Jason’s ribcage and it felt like there was something growing, threatening to break his ribs. Yet he controlled it and feigned ignorance at the look Dick shot him.

“But… This isn’t- no this can’t be true. He-”

“It _is_ true.” Jason hissed, putting his hands on the controller table and letting his head hang between his shoulders. “Now can you log the _fuck_ into this thing!?” He growled. 

It took a bit of silence and a few calming breaths, but then Jason heard the wheels of the computer chair move and the clicking of buttons began. 

“Nightwing, confirmed.” An animatronic voice echoed. 

Dick moved away and Jason sat down, typing into the big box he searched for three things: Gimli, Greg, 19-13-9-12-5. 

**S** -19, **M** -13, **I** -9, **L** -12, **E** -5. The thing that he _had_ been able to see on the board, before he had been made to run, was that _someone_ had been there to underline things. But only 5 letters… Same thing with the barista, and Tim’s coffee cup. Someone had drawn a red smiley at the bottom, and someone, most likely Tim, had pieced it together again once it had been broken. The shards from it that Jason had taken from the apartment had turned out to be laced with some component in it, a drug of some sort.

Along with that Jason had managed to salvage the files Tim had last touched. There had been blood on them, unlike the rest apartment which Jason had later realized was covered in mostly paint. Which in itself had been strange, at first. 

There had, however, been underlinings on Tim’s files; Greg and Gimli.

Jason remembered Greg, Greg White, he’d been an ex-military, not a person of interest till Tim brought it up a few days ago… And that fucking barista, he’d been named Greg.

Gimli had only been a vague memory till Jason had sat down with the salvaged pieces. It was one of the transport companies that had been known to move the chemicals of Scarecrow’s latest dealings. But when Jason and Tim had looked into it there had been no company like that, it didn’t exist…

Jason told Dick parts of it all. He said he’d been tracking Scarecrow. Said that this was something else though. Told him the pieces and where he’d thought they’d fit. As the computer chewed on the bits of knowledge, loading, it felt like a year full year could’ve passed. 

“So what’d they take?” Dick asked, as if casually.

“None of your business.” Jason said back in the same casual voice, leaning back into the chair. 

Dick sighed, “You do understand that this is close to impossible, there’s not way that-”

“There’s no way _what?_ ” Jason asked with a jeer. “You haven’t grown and inch since we last saw each other. Might be time to grow up.” 

The computer blinked and suddenly there was chains of information moving down the screen, scrolling past loads of information, like a lottery machine trying to slot itself in the same row. It took a few seconds but finally it stop and both Jason and Dick leaned into it to see.

There was an adres there, just outside of Gotham - a storage area.

Gimli avenue 19, owned by a Greg Withe since December 9th, 2013. A five story building. 

“Do you know it?” Jason asked, pulling up a map on the screen, showing the different ways of getting there as the computer chewed on the blueprints, pulling them up by the side of the map.

“Don’t think I’ve ever been there specifically. Know the area though. Bruce always thought there was something going on out there, but every time we’d hit it up it’d turn out empty.”

“Hm… My guesses has to do with the fact that everytime you hit it up was during the wrong time.”

“What’d you mean?” Dick turned to look at Jason who continued scanning the prints of the building.

“Did you ever go there while he was locked away? Did you ever consider to check?” 

Silence followed and Jason didn’t get any answer. “Didn’t think so.”

He continued looking over the buildings construction and Dick joined, helping only by pointing out the obvious. Five stories of storage, minor office space and some sort of industrial area. It wasn’t strange at all. Which was why Jason knew it was the one. So he sent the information to his own phone, adding a small loophole into Bruce’s own satellite viewing of Gotham - a trick Tim had taught him. 

“Jason,” Dick tried but Jason was already getting out of the chair, heading for the exit. “What do you think you’re gonna do? Just walk in there?” Dick followed with exasperation.

“Seems like a start.” 

“Then what?” Dick appeared in front of Jason and blocked his way. Jason stopped, if only to take in the full image of the original Robin, standing there right in front of him. Once he’d been his idol. Once he’d been the coolest man in the world. 

But Jason didn’t do the whole _Once upon a time_ shit. The world was too fucked up for that. 

The world was too unfair. 

So instead he looked Dick in the eyes and said, with the most sincerity and severity that he could muster, “I’m going to kill him.” 

Dick looked like he’d been punched in the gut but didn’t wanna look bothered by it. Instead he stared down at Jason with a strong jaw, a scary resemblance to the man who raised and broke them both, and said “That’s not how we do it here.” He said it calmly, as if Jason was a three year old who just didn’t understand. 

“No,” Jason corrected. “This isn’t how _you_ do it. I’m not one of you little birdies, and I’m sure as hell no bat.”

“So why do you wear that symbol.” Dick asked sharply, and he was stalling as he did so. Didn’t mean it made Jason wanna punch him any less. But the worst part was that it was working. This was a fight waiting to happen and damn it if Jason hadn’t practiced for it. Every punch, every kick and every bloody nose was for a chance like this. 

But then there was that voice that Jason feared more than anything for it to fade, it was telling him to be smart for once in his life.

So he took a deep breath. “I don’t know, guess I’m sentimental.” He said coldly with an edge of irony, this time trying to move past. But once again Dick wouldn’t let him

“Let me help you.” Dick insisted.

“No.” 

“You know I can’t let you do this.” 

Jason sighed, and turned back towards the cave, holding his hands by his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them, “Well bird boy, that isn’t really my fault.”

“You’re not alone Jason…” Dick put an outstretched hand on his shoulder. A generosity in his voice that sounded unfamiliar and old. Didn’t belong anymore. 

Jason sighed heavily, “You’re right,” And without the blink of an eye Jason turned back around and threw his fist up to Dick’s jaw, right below his ear. The man fell with a thud, leaving Jason standing alone and shaking off his hand that was now slowly throbbing. “I’m not.”

“Nice family reunion though.” He continued as he moved away, heading, not for the manor, but the garage. “You don’t think Bruce would mind if I borrowed something, right?” He called out as he made his way to the numerous vehicles that the bat had branded himself 

“Didn’t think so…” he answered to himself as he found his desired ride, running a finger over it. The motorcycle, what better way was there. Oh, but Jason would’ve paid to see Bruce’s reaction once he got back. Ruffed up the golden son, hacked the batcomputer _  
and_ took the bike. 

He moved the ride out onto the platform, straddling it and putting on his domino mask that’d been resting in the pocket of his jacket. As he did so he looked back to see Dick unconscious still. What had once been his family, his idol, his _hero._

“Sorry... “ He said in a low voice. “I think I have to do this. I know I have to.”

Clicking a button on the bike there was a woosh as gates were being pulled open and a gush of fresh air flowed through the hall, onto the bike, through Jason’s short curls. It felt strange in a way, maybe it felt like the goodbye he never got. Or maybe it was the fear and the anger finally subduing and settling into something more calm and secure. He was going to get Tim back, at any price. 

But maybe he was in debt, maybe the Lazarus Pit cheated death but Jason never truly got away. Maybe it was _time._

No matter what, it was time to end it, once and for all.

So his last words were just that, before he sped out of the cave that had once held such great meaning to him. His last words were also to a person that had once meant so much more. His last words were the only truth he had ever known. 

“I have to kill the Joker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so did anyone see this coming? Does anyone have theories for what's to come?? Do you like how it's going???
> 
> Also! As we are moving towards an end, I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck around and those who jumped on as it went! You guys have truly motivated me and as a thank you I'd love to take some request or maybe prompts that you'd like to see happen? It can be a small addition to this series and with these goons, or if you have any other characters you'd like to see my take on! Oh, and ofc it can be Jayson and Tim in another au or canon verse. Just drop a comment and let me know! I'd love to give something back for all the support <3
> 
> These additional little parts or au’s will be added after the ending!
> 
> (Also! You can catch me on my tumblr and make requests there too! Or just contact me if you’d like to: https://pixl-king.tumblr.com/post/184443259726/im-back)

**Author's Note:**

> Keep yourself updated or contact me over on my  TUMBLR   
> 


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